Tanas
by Lennie2
Summary: The fifth Doctor, Adric, Nyssa and Tegan land in Regency England and are rescued from a mysterious bone-chilling mist by Tanas, a local landowner. What is his secret? Standard disclaimers.
1. Chapter 1

TANAS

TANAS

CHAPTER ONE

The air was warm, the sun mellow, and in the distance a church bell chimed. Tegan gazed out over the meadow, the profusion of wildflowers of e very species making her think of Monet's poppy field. She shielded her eyes, looking beyond the gently waving grass with its splashes of scarlet to the dark smudge of a wood to the east. She turned back to the TARDIS to see Adric and the Doctor emerging, the latter unscrolling his hat; she went over to join them. Nyssa was kneeling a few feet away, picking bunches of cornflowers and poppies, and arranging them into a posy with much more artistic talent than Tegan could have done.

"When did you say this was?" the air hostess asked. "We're in England, right?"

"Yes, we're 17.2 miles from London," Adric offered, lazily watching a bird of prey that could have been a red kite, a bird that was almost extinct in Tegan's time, hover high above the wood. "It's the 30th August 1823 AD."

"Ah, the Regency period," the Doctor enthused brightly.

Adric grinned back. "In fact in a few days' time there's going to be an astronomical event: Saturn and Mars will be in perfect alignment."

"The Malefics, excellent news!"

"The who, Doctor?"

"Malefics, Tegan. Saturn is known as the Greater Malefic; Mars the Lesser," the Time Lord explained. "Malefic meaning evil influence of course."

"Oh, of course," Tegan muttered.

The Doctor clapped Adric on the back. "Good choice of time and place, Adric!"

The youth tore his gaze away from the kite. "I didn't set the co-ordinates, Doctor."

The Doctor humphed. "Of course you did. I know I didn't. Therefore it follows, does it not, that you did."

"Doctor," Adric explained patiently, "I don't even know what a Regency period is."

"Mmm?" The Doctor was clearly not paying the least attention – again. His eyes were scanning the distance. "You know I do believe there's a village down there – I can see a church. What say you three to a bit of a stroll?" Without waiting for an answer, the Doctor was already striding off single-mindedly.

Tegan exchanged long-suffering glances with her two companions and the three of them hurried to catch him up, Nyssa slipping back to close the TARDIS doors first.

"So what is the Regency anyway?" Adric asked, as they waded through the knee-high grass of the meadow, Tegan pausing often to examine another species of wildflower that was extinct in her time due to intensive farming. She touched a light purple flower reminiscent of a bluebell.

"It's a harebell," the Doctor said, answering her unspoken question. "The local name is witch's thimble or the old man's bells – the old man being the devil, of course. Sorry, Adric; the Regency is a period in English history." He turned with an impish grin to Tegan. "Why don't you tell our friends all about it?"

Tegan raised an innocent eyebrow. "The Regency period denoted that period when the King, George III, was considered insane and therefore his son, George, Prince of Wales, acted as Regent." She smiled triumphantly at the Doctor's look of chagrin.

"What was wrong with the king?" Nyssa asked, her professional interest piqued.

"From the records available I would favour porphyria," the Doctor replied. "Of course, his condition was exacerbated by the primitive level of Regency medicine. His doctors thought that blistering his skin would draw out the ill humours."

"He used to talk to teapots and trees," Tegan added helpfully.

Unnoticed at first, a thin mist had drifted rapidly over the sunny meadow in a swirling cloud until Tegan felt she was viewing the world through a sheet of tracing paper. The Doctor was looking faintly troubled.

"There's something very wrong here," he declared, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Mist is formed when warm air near the ground hits cooler air. It hangs over lakes and rivers and the sea and is most common in late autumn and winter near nightfall. But it's only one o'clock in the afternoon on a very warm and sunny late summer's day. It's anomalous."

And indeed the strange vapour seemed to act in a way very unlike most mists; it swirled oddly despite the lack of a breeze and clung to the body, caressing it in a distasteful way that felt strangely, uncomfortably, like thousands of ghostly hands.

"We should go back," Adric stated and even in the poor visibility Tegan could see the way his eyes darted nervously.

Dispelling her own growing sense of dread, she said, "Relax, Adric, it's only mist. Funny mist – but still mist. It can't hurt you."

"You're forgetting about Mistfall," Nyssa reminded her, giving Adric a reassuring smile.

"It'll probably clear as we leave this hollow. Come along," the Doctor said, seemingly oblivious to Adric's discomfort.

It was soon evident, however, that the mist was not clearing – it was growing thicker until they could see each other only as ghostlike silhouettes against its swirling mass. Adric was now close to panic.

"I want to go back. Now! You don't understand." He had backed himself hard up against a tree and was shivering miserably. "It's evil. We have to go back before it's too late."

"Was Mistfall so bad?" Tegan asked, surprised and disturbed at the depths of Adric's fear – the boy hadn't turned a hair at the Mara or the Tereleptils.

The Time Lord had been squinting ahead, trying to discern their path, but now he turned back to his companions, Adric's fear at last breaking through his preoccupation. He rested his hands lightly on the youth's shoulders, feeling the pounding of his heart through the contact. "Mistfall to an Alzarian is analogous to a haunted mansion in a thunder storm to a human." He squeezed Adric's shoulders. "Adric, we can't find the TARDIS in the mist. Our only hope is to continue to the village."

"Varsh – the Marshmen came out of the mist. They killed Varsh."

Tegan glanced up from her two companions at the sound of a twig snapping sharply. The mist seemed to lift slightly as it swirled and eddied and just for an instant she thought she saw the shape of a huge wolf-like hound. Another waft of thicker fog obscured her vision and when she looked again the creature – if it ever existed – was gone. She turned her attention back to her friends.

"I know," the Doctor was saying, his voice calm and even, "but you still defeated the Marshmen. You confronted your fear and overcame it. This mist can hold no fear for you."

"Doctor, it's getting thicker," Tegan broke through, trying – and failing – to keep her voice steady. The Doctor was already moving, galvanised into action by the thickly swirling fog. He grabbed hold of Adric's hand and ordered the two women to join the chain, Nyssa holding Adric's other hand, Tegan bringing up the rear.

"Stay close," he commanded. The four set off, their pace much slower now as they edged forward into a white limbo world where only the solidity of the ground and the feeble light of the Doctor's torch offered any link with reality. The three younger companions fell and stumbled often, twisting their ankles on the uneven ground and tripping over tree roots and hummocks of soil; only the Doctor kept his footing.

To Adric, he was walking through a nightmare world. Every glimpsed shape, be it a tree or the Doctor leading the way, seemed to be a Marshman rising from the swamps. The mist was icy cold too, and it seemed to wrap itself around him, sucking out his energy, its touch repulsive. He clung to the Doctor's hand as if it were a lifeline. Nyssa's smaller hand trembled and felt as clammy as his own but the Doctor's was warm, reassuring.

A layer of filmy fog lifted and for just a second Adric glimpsed the tall figure of a man. He craned his neck to see more clearly, missed his footing and in an effort to save himself, let go of his friends' hands. He fell heavily.

"Adric!" The moment his friend had dropped his hand, the Doctor was alerted to his plight. He waved his hands in the air like a blind man, trying to make contact with him. The tips of his fingers brushed against warm skin and he caught hold of Nyssa's arm rather roughly. "Hold on to me," he yelled, his voice sounding flat in the deadening air. "Is Tegan with you?"

"I'm here," the Australian affirmed.

"Don't let go." So saying, the Doctor transferred Nyssa's clutching hands to his coat tails and walked forward five tiny paces, then back, then one pace to the left, the same five paces back and forward, covering the immediate vicinity inch by inch, all the time waving his arms. The fog eddied and swirled…

He saw Adric.

The boy was standing a few feet away with the figure of a tall man looming behind him. Before the Doctor could call out, the eerie fog roiled and the Time Lord could see that what he had taken for a man was nothing but a gnarled tree behind his friend.

"Adric!" he shouted in relief and then rushed forward as the boy's knees abruptly gave way. The Doctor grasped his wrist and pulled him up, hissing in surprise and concern at how icy his skin felt. The boy was staring, blinking owlishly, and the Doctor snapped his fingers in front of his face.

"No!" For a second stark terror flashed in Adric's eyes, then reality reasserted itself and he found himself staring, not at a nameless horror, but at his three companions. He began to shiver in earnest and Nyssa urged him to sit down on a fallen tree trunk, chafing his hands between her own. As she did so, she noticed the scarlet pocket on his tunic was torn – and then she noticed the blood. Her face paled.

"Adric, you're bleeding!"

The boy took a moment to register the comment and then he glanced down, touching the gash on his chest through the ragged tear. Memory danced on the edge of recall and then it was gone. "I must have caught myself on my badge. It'll heal," he said, blinking again as if to clear his mind. The Doctor, noticing his slight disorientation, titled his chin up in order to shine his torch into his eyes.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked.

"Don't you know?"

"Never mind. Any nausea? Headache?"

Adric shrugged, finally succeeding in shoving the Doctor's hands away. "I don't think so. I've never had either of those things so I wouldn't know."

Tegan snorted. "You must have had a headache. Everyone in the universe has had a headache."

"I told you before, Alzarians don't get ill."

"No, you just fall over a lot and get injured," Tegan retorted, her concern for her friend coming out as anger. "Is it something about Earth that makes you fall over – you've fallen in both the seventeenth and the nineteenth centuries."

Firing at Tegan's words, Adric immediately fought back. "At least I don't get a cold or flu or hay fever every other day like you. Nor do I put my friends in danger by allowing my mind to be invaded or controlled."

"That's enough from both of you," the Doctor interposed sharply before Tegan could give a blistering retort. "We have company." He pointed down the meadow to where a tall, lithe man could be seen walking towards them through the now lightish mist. The man, Tegan noticed with some appreciation as he drew near, was dressed in the costume of the period, form-hugging breeches, riding boots, a jacket and a top hat. He was tall with jet black hair which framed his face like a mane, an aquiline nose and rather haughty, brooding, blue eyes beneath a heavy forehead. In short, Tegan thought with a broad grin, he looked like a feral Mr Darcy from _Pride and Prejudice_.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen," he declared with a courtly bow to the two women. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Sir Tanas of Wolf's Dene. I happened to see your light in the fog some few minutes ago and, perceiving you in peril, came to offer my services."

With a boyish grin, the Doctor doffed his hat and bowed in return. "That is most obliging of you, Sir Tanas," he said, slipping into the formal phrases of the period with ease. "The mist caught us unawares."

"My humble residence is but a few miles away. I would be honoured if you would do me the favour of dining with me this evening. My housekeeper will provide fresh clothing for you as I see that your own habiliments have become soiled. Madam, if I may…" With another bow, he offered Tegan his arm and the air hostess, looking as if Christmas had arrived early, willingly accepted it.

Hopping down from the carriage, partly to avoid having to be assisted by the footman and partly to show the Doctor that he was quite well now, thank you, Adric turned to offer Tegan his arm before following Tanas up the flight of stone steps which looked as if they had been freshly scrubbed that morning. Under ordinary circumstances he would never have dreamed of offering his arm to a girl but Tanas' stilted formality amused rather than irritated him – and anyway it was fun seeing Tegan's startled reaction.

In the reception hall which was dominated by a sweeping staircase and a gigantic crystal chandelier, their host politely excused himself, leaving them in the capable hands of his housekeeper, Mrs Smith, a spindly, desiccated old woman who reminded Adric of a Marshspider.

"This is the guest suite," she commented ushering them into an elegantly furnished parlour. "I hope you will be comfortable."

"I'm sure we will," the Doctor said warmly. He had expected to see frantic housemaids pulling off dust sheets and lighting fires but all was in perfect readiness down to the mulled wine on the table. "You run a very efficient household, Mrs Smith, my compliments."

The old woman gave a dusty smile. "The master often entertains at short notice. Ladies, if you will follow me to your bedchamber?"

Once the ladies had departed, the two men went through to their own room. The two four poster beds were hung with rich, hand embroidered canopies, there was a tiny fire in the grate and two sets of clothing had been laid out. The jug on the washstand had been filled with hot water.

Adric bounced experimentally on the bed before going to the mantelpiece to examine a fine, cream-coloured clock, made of china. It was a lot heavier than it looked and it slipped an inch or two in his fingers; the Doctor coughed in gentle warning and the boy guiltily replaced it.

"That's Royal Creamware. In Tegan's time, a clock like that would be worth £300," the Doctor observed, beginning to peel off his frock coat; Adric watched him in clear astonishment.

"What are you doing?"

"It's been centuries since I last stopped by in Regency England. I've always had a fondness for its costumes. Hurry up!"

Without enthusiasm Adric poked at the olive green jacket that had been laid out for him; he supposed it was just about wearable. He turned to the fawn pantaloons, noting with horror the drop-down front which fastened with two enormous brass buttons. There was absolutely no way that he was wearing them – just the idea of the figure-hugging pants made him blush. He dropped them as if they scalded him.

"I think I'll stay in my own clothes," he said, trying to sound casual.

The Doctor was roving about the room again, clucking admiringly over several ornaments and artefacts. Adric swept his eyes up and down the Doctor's slender frame, and had to admit his friend looked particularly dashing in the navy blue double breasted waistcoat with the long frilly shirt underneath; the tight pantaloons however left nothing to the imagination. "Mmmm?" the Time Lord said, finally fetching up in front of the oval mirror and fiddling with his cravat. "Woops – no, that's not right. Now, my third self would have had no trouble with this – he was always rather fond of dandified clothes. Wore a lot of capes."

"I just bet he did. And I said I think I'll keep my own clothes on."

"Nonsense," the Time Lord responded absently. "It would be discourteous to refuse our host's hospitality."

Adric's gaze drifted back to the hated pantaloons. "They're far too tight," he said, feeling his cheeks heat up.

The Doctor regarded him for a moment. "We're all in the same boat - that's an expression, Adric - I'm sure you'll look splendid. Let's have a look at that cut." He had apparently managed to fasten the cravat which now hung rather like a large frilly cabbage under his chin; it looked incredibly silly.

Adric shook his head stubbornly. "It's probably already healed. It wasn't very deep."

"I want to check," the Doctor replied just as stubbornly. Adric lost patience.

"I am not a child needing nursemaiding! I'll be fine."

Rolling his eyes heavenward, the Doctor conceded defeat. "I see from your returning obstinacy that you are back to normal," he commented dryly, dumping the contents of his frock coat pockets on the bed; Adric hid a grin at all the rubbish his friend had accumulated, including a chocolate bar, a notebook, a Kinda necklace and, bizarrely, a rubber duck. The Time Lord passed him an adhesive dressing from a small first aid kit. "Make sure you wash the cut thoroughly."

"Yes, Doctor," Adric said meekly, grinning cheekily a moment later at the suspicious glare his friend directed at him: the Doctor knew from long experience that meekness was not in Adric's make-up.

Seizing up the chocolate bar, the Doctor left the room, leaving Adric alone with the tricky problem of his clothes. Peeling out of his outer tunic, he soon realised that the material was severely shredded, almost slashed in fact. He fiddled dubiously with his badge, wondering how on Earth the blunt prongs could have caused such damage. One thing was for certain: he could not wear the tunic even if he managed to scrub away the soaked in blood. He sighed and turned his gaze reluctantly back to the Regency clothes; he had no choice.

Once he had made his decision, he removed his olive under-tunic, wincing as the movement hurt his chest. He prodded the injury site gently, surprised to discover that the wound had not even begun to heal. There were two deep puncture marks from the badge's prongs which were still weeping blood, and the whole area was tender and swollen. He considered calling the Doctor back but abandoned the notion immediately as being alarmist. After all the cut would not heal if it was dirty. In addition, he had been chilled and in shock, both of which slowed down one's natural healing capabilities.

Pleased with his logic, he cleaned the wound thoroughly, before deciding he might as well have a proper wash while the water was still hot. He wrapped another towel round his middle and sluiced his whole body down, using the coarse soap vigorously until the skin on his torso and arms was red. He applied the dressing, and then, with the kind of sigh a soldier gives upon going into battle, began to struggle into the uncomfortable and downright impractical costume.

Tegan held the simple ivory and gold Empire-style dress up against herself and admired the effect in the mirror. The dress required no corset but it fit tightly under the bust, and the neckline was plunging to say the least.

"I always adored dressing up," she said to Nyssa who was unbuttoning her velvet tunic. She slid out of her air hostess jacket and was just starting on the blouse when there was a timid knock at the door and a very young girl in the livery of a maid slipped in, blushing and curtsying. Tegan grinned.

"Hello there! What's your name? I'm Tegan, this is Nyssa." Nyssa gave the merest of nods but the girl appeared overcome with nerves.

"Oh!" she squeaked. "It's Abigail, Miss Tegan, miss. I've brought hot water for you if you please, miss."

"Thank you," Nyssa said, her tone so curt that Tegan could not help but look over at her in surprise. The mousy maid, with another untidy curtsy, poured the jug full of searing water into the bowl and was about to leave when Tegan called her over.

"You couldn't give us a hand with this dress, could you?"

"Tegan," Nyssa said warningly and the maid gave her such a dumbstruck look that Tegan thought she must have said something offensive in Regency terminology.

"Me, miss? But I'm just the below-stairs maid, miss. I'll call the mistress's maid with pleasure."

Tegan caught her arm, determined to make the girl feel good about herself. "I'm sure you'll do splendidly, Abigail," she said warmly and slipped off her blouse. Abigail's mouth dropped open at her first sight of Tegan's bra. The air hostess realised to an eighteenth century contemporary, the lingerie looked completely alien - not to mention racy. She might as well have been wearing a black basque and fishnet stockings. She thought quickly.

"Relax, Abigail," she said, summoning up her brightest smile, "this er _corset_ is all the rage in Paris."

Abigail looked tremendously, almost comically, relieved. By the time they had wrestled the Australian into the dress and Abigail was lacing it up at the back, the maid had grown more talkative, thanks to Tegan's encouragement; Nyssa barely spoke, sitting aloof at the dressing table while she pinned up her hair. "I've been in service to the master for almost three months if you please, miss."

"Just Tegan and it does please me," Tegan said. "Where were you erm in service before?"

"Oh! I was at the orphanage, miss. So was Rebecca and Jane, the cook hands."

"There! All done!" Tegan exclaimed, twirling round. "How do I look? I bet poor Adric's eyes pop out of his head."

Abigail smiled shyly, almost meeting Tegan's eyes. "You look beautiful, miss. You too, Miss Nyssa."

"Ready, Nyssa?"

"Yes," Nyssa said shortly and swept out. Even the supremely gentle and mild Traken could be bad tempered it would seem, Tegan thought as she followed her friend.

Tugging at the figure-hugging pantaloons which clung so disconcertingly to his lower half, Adric sidled out of their suite and down the hall; he spotted the Doctor's dashing figure on the upper landing admiring some oil paintings and went over to join him, thinking that there was at least safety in numbers.

"Ah, Adric, there you are. The girls haven't finished their toilette yet," the Doctor remarked somewhat dryly. "If the Cranleigh ball is anything to go by, they will probably be some time. Do you want half a Marathon?" He waved the chocolate bar under Adric's nose, adding admonishingly, "Stop fidgeting."

His stomach growled, taking his mind off the ridiculous costume and Adric eagerly took the chocolate bar, only to give it back with a disgruntled humph a moment later. "No thanks, it's got nuts in."

"Sorry. You know I told myself I wouldn't buy any of these after they changed the name." Off Adric's questioning look he explained, "The manufacturers in Britain changed the name from Marathon to Snickers. Something to do with falling in line with the Americans – absolute sacrilege if you ask me. I mean, really; 'snicker' is something a horse does."

"I see you are admiring my ancestors' portraits," Tanas interposed, appearing so soundlessly by their side that Adric jumped. The portraits in question appeared to go back at least four hundred years, judging by the style of clothes, including an impressive portrait of an ancestor dressed in Stuart costume; possibly Tanas' great-grandfather.

The Doctor was studying the biggest portrait, that of Tanas himself. "Very strong brushwork," he commented with his usual enthusiasm for all things historical.

Giving a grunt of assent, Adric studied their host's portrait. Dressed in formal attire of breeches and tailcoat, Tanas was standing next to a small table, his finger pointing portentously to a closed leather-bound copy of the Bible. Squinting in the poor light, Adric thought he could detect the shape of a hound in the background. He flicked his gaze back to the Stuart ancestor and back again. "Your family seems fond of dogs, Sir Tanas," he observed.

The Doctor looked more closely. "I do believe it's a wolf. Interesting!" he exclaimed with the enthusiasm of a small child. "That's very unusual – "

"It is a family motif, my friend," Tanas interrupted smoothly. "My ah ultimate grandfather slew a ravenous wolf which had been preying on the village – or so the legend goes. Ever since, we have incorporated the motif into our coat of arms and portraiture. Ah, the ladies approach." Crossing with feline grace to the two women, Tanas bowed low and offered his arm to each.

The four companions were led in stately procession into the drawing room where Tanas apparently thought formal introductions were necessary. "My friends, may I have the honour of introducing you to my wife, Lady Wilhelmina." A tall, very pale lady in a monstrous hat with an ostrich feather in it rose with stately grace and a frozen smile to greet them. She curtsied.

"How do you do?" the Doctor said, bowing in return and nudging his friends to follow his example. Nyssa curtsied perfectly, taking her cue from their hostess, Tegan barely managed to keep her balance. "I am known as the Doctor. May I present the Lady Nyssa, daughter of the Consul of Traken? Miss Tegan Jovanka and Mr Adric?"

Tanas gestured for the companions to sit down. The room was chilly despite its being only the end of August. His wife rang a bell pull and when the servant appeared ordered tea. She regarded her guests with barely concealed contempt. "Miss Jovanka. What an unusual name. Pray, who is your father and where is his residence?"

Tegan beamed. "I'm from Aus – "

"Ostend," the Doctor quickly interrupted: to their hosts Australia was infamous as the country to which convicts were sent. "My compliments on your house, Sir Tanas. The western aspect is early Tudor, is not it?"

"Precisely so, Doctor. The cellars and foundations date to the thirteenth century. Over the centuries my ancestors have added to the whole. My father created the parklands and south-facing aspect."

The doors opened and two liveried servants entered and, with soft-footed efficiency, placed a tea tray at their mistress's elbow along with a silver cake salver. Tegan smiled her thanks to the two servants but they resolutely refused to catch her eye; her hosts completely ignored them as if they did not exist.

Later, after some stiltedly formal small talk regarding the travellers' origins and purpose in the locality which the Doctor dodged smoothly, Sir Tanas invited his guests to a rubber of cards. Nyssa demurred, and seeing a grand piano in the corner volunteered to play instead. Lady Wilhelmina drifted over to join her and the two were soon playing a charming duet. Playing the piano had been one of the many accomplishments expected of her as the daughter of a consul and Nyssa knew she could play tolerably well; she discovered, however that she was in the presence of a master. Wilhelmina's fingers seemed almost to blur as they trickled effortlessly over the keys. After a virtuoso performance, and the Doctor's appreciative applause, Wilhelmina bowed her head regally and asked Tegan whether she played 'The Instrument.'

The air hostess, who had been sitting bolt upright in her chair in an effort to appear lady-like, thought back to one particular Christmas when she had played White Christmas with her grandfather. "My grandfather taught me the basics but I haven't practised for years."

Lady Wilhelmina gave one of her superior smiles. "Application, my dear, if you will permit the intimacy, is the key."

By now the late afternoon sun was shining in through the window; a shaft of light hit the polished surface of the piano. Wilhelmina rose grandly and, with a gesture to the footman waiting unobtrusively by the door, had him draw across the heavy velvet curtains, commenting, "The sun is uncommonly warm, is not it?"

She glided over to the card table. "Who wins, my dear husband?" she asked.

"Regretfully, I must confess that it is not I. Adric is a flawless player." He clapped Adric on the shoulder and the Alzarian jumped slightly as the man's cold fingers brushed his neck. "Have you some secret to your game, my friend?"

Adric shook his head, clearly perplexed by the assumption but pleased nonetheless. "Oh no," he replied, "it's a very simple mathematical equation."

"Ah, a student of the new discipline! Excellent. Which university do you attend?"

"Trinity College, Oxford," the Doctor replied smoothly. "I do believe you've beaten me again, Adric."

"Some wine, Miss Jovanka?" Lady Wilhelmina asked courteously, seeing Tegan stifle a yawn. "May I venture to suggest that your fondness for the gaming table is as limited as my own? Perhaps dancing is more your hobby?"

Amusing herself with the notion of replying that yes, she thoroughly enjoyed disco dancing, Tegan nodded.

"I am delighted to hear it, Miss Jovanka," Tanas exclaimed. "It is my intention to hold a ball in six days' time. I insist that you all do me the honour of attending."

Adric, who did not share his friend's enthusiasm for dancing, saw Tanas exchange a look with his wife, his eyes seeming to flash red in the candlelight.

There was a superior knock on the door; how a knock could be superior the Doctor didn't know but it was. Before he could call come in, Abraham, the butler entered the bed chamber, followed by two footmen carrying large buckets of steaming water. Under their superior's watchful eye they filled the bath already stationed by the fire and erected the hand-embroidered screen round it. One of the footmen made to exit but Abraham pointed imperiously to a small splash of water and the hapless underling quickly mopped it up, earning himself a clip round the ear for his trouble. Once he had dismissed his minions, Abraham stepped forward impassively.

"Your bath is ready, Mr Adric," he declared sonorously. His expression was that of the dutiful servant, blank, respectful, but Adric still felt like the man was regarding him with thinly concealed contempt.

"Erm," he said uncertainly, casting a desperate look at the Doctor who was absorbed in a book. "Thank you."

"Very good, sir," Abraham responded and waited.

"Erm," said Adric again. He looked from Abraham to the bath and back again, wondering why the butler was just standing there. Was he waiting for some word of dismissal from his erstwhile better? While he was still puzzling over the matter, Abraham closed the space between them and began to undo the buttons on Adric's jacket. His touch was so efficient and somehow detached that he had managed to remove the jacket and was starting on his shirt before Adric's brain caught up and he realised what the impassive servant was doing. He half climbed the nearest wall.

"Wait a minute," he exclaimed, his voice breaking embarrassingly. "You want to give me a bath?"

Abraham deigned to raise an eyebrow. "It was my understanding that you wished to bathe, sir," he responded, managing to make the word sir sound like an insult.

Adric could feel his cheeks flaming and unconsciously he wrapped his arm round his chest. There was absolutely no way … Thankfully, before he could self-destruct from embarrassment or Abraham could lose what little respect he still had for them, the Doctor intervened.

"Thank you, Abraham. Mr Adric will take his bath alone. That will be all."

The scandalised butler's eyebrows shot up. "Alone??" Gathering together his shattered dignity, he took refuge in his favourite stock phrase which he used whenever his betters dared to forget their station. "Very good, sir."

With a cold bow, he withdrew, leaving Adric still standing there open-mouthed. "He really meant to give me a bath? I mean actually … bathe me? No-one's given me a bath since I was five years old."

"Mmm," the Doctor responded, already returning to his book. "It's customary for a valet to bathe and dress his master." He spared the Alzarian a look. "I'd hurry up if I were you, that bath is made of tin which is a good conductor of heat."

Still struggling with the notion and wondering too how long a bath was supposed to take a member of the gentry before his valet came trotting back in, Adric shucked out of his shirt and pantaloons. The screen shielded him from the Doctor, he noted with relief, so he pulled off the long johns which were the most uncomfortable underwear he had ever worn, and slipped into the water. The bath was not very long and he discovered he either had to draw his knees up concertina-fashion or dangle his feet over the edge. He picked up the pebble-like soap which however hard you tried never produced a lather, and began to scrub his shoulders and arms. The wound on his chest throbbed and he noticed that the edges had pulled apart again: it still had not healed. More than alarmed, he was just about to inform the Doctor when he suddenly decided not to: he was naked after all. He'd seek the Doctor's reassurance after his bath. Seizing up the soap again, he scrubbed harder at his arm until the skin was lobster red, a strange peacefulness overtaking him.

It was the Doctor scraping back his chair and stretching that broke into his reverie. He blinked.

"I'm going to go downstairs, see if our hosts are still awake," the Doctor said, coming over and tapping his fingers on the screen. Adric was suddenly glad of the bath's short dimensions since it meant his knees were already drawn up. He gave a too-bright smile.

"Alright."

"Don't forget to snuff out your candle when you retire," the Time Lord cautioned. "A high percentage of Regency fires were caused by carelessness with candles. Sleep well, Adric."

Pulling the door shut behind him, the Doctor departed. The room seemed suddenly chill and full of shadows. Adric stared round nervously as a floorboard creaked. His gaze fell again on the nasty-looking puncture wounds. Surely the injury should have healed by now? He recalled Tegan's earlier mockery of his race's healing abilities and bit his lip in anger and shame: Varsh had taunted him for weeks when it transpired that he required laser treatment to correct his short-sightedness. Varsh had never been ill – he would never have allowed himself to be so weak. Fishing out the soap, he attacked his arms again until they were raw.

"Excellent vintage! You must keep an extensive wine cellar," the Doctor declared, draining his glass and politely declining a refill. To the Time Lord's delight Sir Tanas and his wife were still up and had courteously prevailed upon him to join them. The couple were witty and charming and he had greatly enjoyed the opportunity to glean the latest snippets of court gossip and to discuss the merits of the new craze for coffee shops which Lady Wilhelmina apparently deplored as an evil influence on the young.

Tanas seemed to take a moment to heed the question; he was staring out of the open door, his eyes intense. "I flatter myself that I do, sir." He swirled the crimson wine round his glass and drank deeply, draining the glass. Licking his lips he rose abruptly to his feet. "You must excuse me, Doctor. I have ...some business to attend to."

"Oh I quite understand," the Doctor replied, scrambling up himself. "I didn't mean to intrude – "

"Nay, good sir, the fault is mine alone. Your company is much more stimulating than the accounts I must examine. Lady Wilhelmina will entertain you. I bid you good night."

The Doctor watched Tanas drift catlike from the room and sweep up the grand staircase, a trick of the candlelight elongating his fingers and casting a crooked shadow behind him. A slight niggle assailed the Doctor and he made to follow the man; he had got no more than a few strides when Wilhelmina appeared seemingly from nowhere, blocking the door.

"Come, Doctor, one more rubber of cards, I insist," she said to him, smiling engagingly.

His fears melted away. "Thank you. Perhaps one more game."

Night drew on. In the upper gallery the grandfather clock chimed two, and in the guest quarters a strange mist, as cold as the grave, descended: evil was manifesting itself. An upright figure stepped out of the mist and flowed rather than walked down the corridor and into the parlour. It paused at the girls' door, seeming almost to taste the air, and then it dissolved itself through the solid wall as easily as a knife passing through butter. It loomed over Tegan, a cruel smile twisting its mouth and lighting up its red-tinged eyes, and then, abruptly, it was gone, melting through the adjoining wall into Adric's room.

Adric was curled up untidily half way down the bed. The figure approached, its movements sinuous and graceful, its eyes blazing as it regarded its prey. Adric stirred, his breathing accelerating from peaceful, slow breaths to ragged pants, and the hunter chuckled, the sound reverberating and fluttering round the room like bats' wings.

Adric's tossing and turning became frantic, and he mumbled desperately in his sleep, "No, never!"

Undeterred, the presence drifted closer, and oh so delicately reached out a skeletal hand to caress Adric's sleeping form. Wraithlike hands caressed his face, tracing the curve of his mouth and stealing his warmth where they touched. Adric seemed to tremble to the very essence of his being as ice cold lips played on his naked throat.

"You cannot escape, my prince," a merciless voice whispered, "You are mine."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Adric surged awake with an anguished cry, feeling as though his hammering heart was going to burst out of his chest.

A nightmare, nothing but a nightmare. He drew his knees up and bowed his head, fighting the impulse to cry. Alzarians, as he had been wont to brag to Tegan, did not suffer nightmares. Their genetic makeup was so advanced that there was no need for such a clunky mechanism as dreaming: nightmares were for weak and feeble humans.

And yet, there was no other explanation for the horror that had gripped him.

Still fighting the terror, he glanced round the room. The candle which he had left burning (against the Doctor's advice) had gone out and the room was plunged in darkness, the wan rays of moonlight serving only to deepen the shadows. A fine, cloying mist hung in the air and it was very, very cold. Adric pressed his hand over his still thumping heart and winced at the movement – the wound on his chest had re-opened and was extremely sore and tender.

A floorboard creaked and his eyes flew to the door. Nightmare images replayed through his mind, too swift to catch, and then the door swung open with a spine-chilling creak. He watched in frozen anticipation and, for all the fear and disgust, there was a tiny part of him that welcomed the intrusion.

The Doctor stepped through the door and Adric flung himself back against the pillows, overcome with relief, the fear lifting instantly.

"Adric, you should be asleep," the Time Lord remonstrated softly, holding his candle high. "It's past three. Did I wake you?"

Adric could only shake his head mutely. More than anything he wanted to tell the Doctor about his nightmare, confide in him, but the words would not come. It was as if there was a mental block preventing him. Finally he managed to speak. "No, the window flew open – it startled me."

The Doctor went over to the window and checked the fastening. "It's firmly locked now," he observed, wondering why Adric looked so distressed. He returned to the bedside, placing his candle on the table and rested a hand on his forehead; he felt cold. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Quickly snuggling down in the bed, Adric rolled over onto his side to avoid his friend's concern. "I'm fine. 'Night, Doctor."

The Time Lord hovered uncertainly for a moment, and then he retrieved his candle and went over to his own bed. The air felt clammy and he shivered as he began to peel out of his clothes.

Lingering over cups of freshly ground coffee, smoked kippers and toast spread with Mrs Smith's strawberry conserve, Tegan, the Doctor and Nyssa were relaxing in the breakfast room. After the stiff formality of dinner last night, when there had been no less than six sets of cutlery by their plates and a veritable army of servants (in cauliflower wigs no less) to attend them, Tegan was relieved to see that breakfast was an altogether more relaxed affair. The crockery was still bone china and exquisite but they served themselves from the sideboard with only Abraham, the butler, and one footman in attendance. As she finished her last mouthful of melt-in-the-mouth kipper, she gave a chuckle.

"I had the strangest dream last night. You know what it's like when your dreams seem so real? I dreamt there was a strange man at the foot of my bed."

"I remember when I was about six that I had a dream about daddy on the wardrobe," Nyssa said. "I had a big mahogany wardrobe in my room and I swear that I could see my father sitting crossed-legged on top of it. Very bizarre; I can still see him now."

She shared a sedate smile with Tegan and then looked up as a footman opened the door. Adric shuffled in, still looking mussed and half asleep. He yawned hugely, only remembering to put his hand over his mouth at the last second. Tegan regarded him quizzically as he collapsed into a chair. Adric was habitually the first to awaken and was usually bouncing energetically (and annoyingly) off the walls, bursting with energy and good health by the time Tegan dragged herself, grumbling and complaining, out of bed at eight.

"Morning Adric," the Doctor mumbled absently from around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "You're up late."

Before Adric could reply to this implied criticism, Tegan said sardonically. "You do realise it is, gasp, nearly half past eight in the morning? You're usually solving pi to infinity by now."

Adric knuckled his eyes like a small child, an endearing habit that would have mortified him if he'd realised how young it made him look. "I didn't sleep very well."

"Here," Nyssa said kindly, pouring him out a cup of coffee, "you look like you could use it." Adric accepted the drink with a mere grunt of acknowledgement but a few gulps had soon revived him and he ambled over to the sideboard in search of eggs.

Tegan grinned. "We were just discussing nightmares. I don't suppose the super race of Alzarians suffer from anything as feeble as nightmares, right?"

Adric's head shot up. "Of course not."

"Perish the thought," Tegan replied dryly.

To avoid further discussion, Adric indicated the two places set for Tanas and his wife. "Have our hosts already eaten?" he asked Abraham.

"No, sir. It is the custom of the master and mistress to rise late, usually about ten. Although today, being the Lord's Day, I imagine his Lordship will be down imminently in order to attend divine service."

"Creatures of the night, eh?" Tegan joked.

_Abraham arched his eyebrow and replied, "Certainly Sir Tanas does his best work at night." He turned to leave but paused to ask, "Will there be anything else?"_

_"No, thank you Abraham," Nyssa responded curtly. "That will be all."_

As Abraham predicted, Sir Tanas appeared shortly thereafter, looking full of vigour. He invited the travellers to attend church with him and they readily agreed, eager to sample as much of Regency culture as possible.

"Is Lady Wilhelmina not attending with us, Sir Tanas?" the Doctor asked as the footman handed him into the first of the two carriages where Nyssa and Tegan were already comfortably settled.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Tanas' lips as if the question were amusing. "Alas, my wife is not of the Catholic persuasion. She will remain at home." He turned to Adric who was about to climb into the carriage and said: "Will you do me the honour of riding with me, my friend? 'Tis a warm day and we do not wish to overburden the horses."

Adric hesitated. "Doctor?"

Before the Doctor could reply, Tanas gave a winning smile and added, "I would enjoy the opportunity to discuss the new discipline of mathematics with one so talented."

When the first coach arrived at the church Tegan was surprised to see people still milling around. "It's past ten," she observed, "why hasn't the service started?"

"The minister is probably waiting for the parish's patron and magistrate," the Doctor explained. His gaze sharpened and he added, "Speak of the devil – here they come now."

The second carriage drew up in front of the gate and the Doctor watched as Adric and Tanas descended and walked towards them; they were both smiling and Adric was looking up at the other with an expression of hero-worship. A small stab of jealousy assaulted the Doctor for he remembered a time, before his regeneration, when Adric had looked at him like that – and then Adric had disentangled himself from Tanas' companionable arm and was trotting over to them.

With a little more asperity than he intended, the Doctor snapped, "Shall we go in?" and led the way, pretending to ignore the flash of hurt in Adric's eyes.

Once they entered the church, Adric followed the Doctor's example and removed his hat although he wasn't quite sure what to do with it next; the Doctor seemed to carry his neatly in the crook of his arm but when Adric tried that he nearly dropped it. There was a very large, ornately carved structure in the entrance that looked like a birdbath. The Alzarian stood on tip-toes, just itching to lift the lid and look inside; the Doctor slapped his hand away.

"What is it?"

"A font," Tegan explained, her gaze fixed on the packed nave. "Cripes, they certainly know how to fill churches in Regency times. If this were 1981, only two or three pews would be filled – by little old ladies wearing monstrous hats."

"Attending religious service is compulsory," the Doctor explained.

A verger appeared and, with a deferential bow, led them to a set of pews erected at right angles to the main congregation where Sir Tanas was already sitting. Their host rose to his feet and courteously settled his visitors. Tegan nudged Adric, nodding towards the hymn board. "Those are the hymn numbers. You follow the service in the green book."

"Hymns? You mean I have to sing?" Adric responded incredulously. Tegan grinned.

It was a particularly long and boring service with the priest, who obviously adored the sound of his own voice, rabbitting on interminably. After five long hymns, none of which Tegan recognised, came the sermon which lasted a good hour by Tegan's reckoning; the priest flapped and dithered, frequently losing his place in his book, and addressing his remarks not to the congregation but to Tanas in the most fawning and obsequious way possible. Mr Collins, the imbecilic cleric from _Pride and Prejudice_, had absolutely nothing on this duffer, Tegan thought. She glanced at her companions, hoping to catch someone's eye to relieve the boredom. Nyssa's eyes had glazed over; the Doctor was wearing a fixed expression of studious interest and Adric was muttering very quietly under his breath; he looked as if he were praying but Tegan knew from long experience that the boy was actually absorbed in computations. Only Sir Tanas appeared to be paying attention; indeed he was listening to every dribbling word, his hooded eyes glinting in the candlelight.

The only break in monotony came during Holy Communion. While the companions politely declined the verger's invitation to partake, Tanas strolled to the front of the queue.

"What are they doing?" Adric asked the Doctor.

"Holy Communion is a sacrament of the Roman Catholic church. The participants believe that the Holy Spirit transforms the bread into the body of Jesus Christ and the wine into His blood. It's called transubstantiation. The Church of England, on the other hand," he added, in the interests of accuracy, "believe that the sacrament is symbolic only."

"So they believe they are eating their god?" Nyssa asked, her candid eyes opening wide.

While the Doctor went on to explain at some length to his other two companions how the differences in the sacraments were a major cause of the Reformation, Tegan watched Tanas. He cradled the jewel-encrusted chalice to his lips and, holding the petrified gaze of the priest, downed the entire contents, before closing his eyes in apparent rapture and slowly, almost sensuously, licking his lips. Although Tegan was not a particularly religious woman, there was something about his actions that disturbed her greatly.

The carriages were waiting for them when they finally emerged blinking and stretching into the bright sunlight after a record two and a half hours, but the four opted for a quick stroll round the village rather than return immediately to the manor for luncheon.

"The village seems quite affluent," Adric commented, nosying in at the well-kept front gardens.

"Appearances can be deceptive," the Doctor replied. "The majority of houses are down that dirt track there – and I doubt they are as picturesque."

"They all seem well stocked with herbs," Nyssa remarked professionally. "I assume they rely on herbs for their medicinal uses. I can identify some of them: rue, aloe..."

"Very good, Nyssa. That glossy green herb over there with the white flowers is angelica. So named after Michael the archangel since it is supposed to bloom on his feast day. Very effective against the Plague."

"And the bunch of herbs?" Nyssa asked, pointing to a small bouquet tied with red thread hanging above the door. Before the Doctor could reply, Adric's stomach gurgled loudly.

"Can we go back now?" he asked, "I'm awfully hungry and it's steak for luncheon."

The very first time Tegan had read _Pride and Prejudice_, she had fantasised about going back in time and living the Regency life, wearing the long flowing dresses, listening to piano recitals by candlelight and being attended to by servants in cauliflower wigs.

Her dream had come true – literally! – but the novelty was beginning to wear off. Washing her hair with soap (soap, for heaven's sake!) had started the day badly and a few hours imprisoned in the music room with Lady Wilhelmina after church had soured things further.

While their hostess was fussing over the tea tray, for it appeared to be the custom to drink tea at every hour, Tegan took the opportunity to peek through the heavy voiles hanging over the window to see how the men were getting on with their clay pigeon shooting. "I think," she said, "that I'll take a turn round the garden."

Nyssa rose agreeably but Wilhelmina looked aghast. "My dear Miss Jovanka, the sun is high. Think of your complexion."

Grinning, Tegan made for the door, Nyssa behind her. "No worries, Lady Wilhelmina," she said cheekily, "I've got on my factor thirty!"

As they made their escape across the hall, Tegan saw Abigail, the maid she had befriended yesterday, scuttling across the brilliantly polished tiled floor to stand in the furthest corner with her head bowed.

"What's all that about?" she asked Nyssa.

The young Traken spared the maid the merest glance as she struggled to put on her bonnet. "It's customary. The serving class must go about their business without disturbing their betters; if their paths should cross, it is incumbent on the servant to make their presence as unobtrusive as possible."

"What?! By standing in a corner! She's a human being not a ...a slave." Tegan had begun to march over to the trembling maid but Nyssa caught her arm.

"It's none of our business, Tegan. It's part of Regency culture."

"Part of Regency culture, my foot! You condone it. You think it's right." Shaking her arm free, she planted her feet firmly and crossed her arms - something else women didn't do in Regency England. She didn't care how many servants overheard or how many Laws of Time she broke – she wasn't putting up with Nyssa's snobbishness a moment longer.

Nyssa raised a finely sculpted eyebrow and the fact that she was remaining calm only added to Tegan's fury. "We are not here to change custom and tradition, we are here to observe. My opinions are beside the point."

"Don't give me that. You've been swanning about the place like Lady Muck since we got here. Issuing orders, looking down your nose at people – people, Nyssa – who just happen to have been born into a lower class than that of a Consul." She found she was trembling with frustration and rage – more than that, with indignation, that her mild, generous, sweetly innocent friend could harbour such unethical opinions. "You know I'm surprised you talk to us minions on board the TARDIS. Must be a real come down, my Lady."

Nyssa's cheeks flushed slightly. "The Doctor happens to be a member of the Time Lord caste. Adric is an Elite – "

Tegan stared. "And what about me?" she asked quietly before spinning on her heels and rushing out.

Nyssa did not call her back, she noted bitterly, but then the daughter of a Consul would probably consider such displays beneath her.

"Pull!" called the Doctor. He followed the trajectory of the saucer-shaped clay pigeon through the cloudless sky, anticipated when it would reach his sights and gently but firmly squeezed the trigger. The clay pigeon shattered instantly but the Doctor was already tracking the rapidly descending second and third targets, shooting at them in quick succession. There was a round of scattered yet respectful applause from the groundsmen supervising the mechanical catapult. Adric who had been watching with Tanas bounded over to him, his face wreathed in smiles.

"Good shot, sir!" Tanas boomed. "Your turn, Adric; indeed I insist, sir."

The boy's ecstatic smile faded. "Oh, I'm not very good at hand eye co-ordination. I'll just watch."

Tanas, however, would brook no argument. He took the rifle from the Doctor and pressed it into Adric's hands. So startled was he by the sudden attention that Adric stepped back, stumbling slightly as he did so. Tanas caught and steadied him with an embrace both alien and familiar and for a moment Adric caught himself staring into those hooded eyes.

The Doctor's polite cough brought him back to reality and he dropped his gaze. Shaken and confused he fumbled with the gun while Tanas flowed off to talk to the groundsman.

"You two seem to be hitting it off," the Doctor remarked dryly, taking the rifle from Adric's nerveless grip.

Stung by the implied censure Adric replied, "I like him. He doesn't treat me like a child."

"You can say that again."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rather than allow the exchange to spiral into an argument, the Doctor came to stand behind his friend and mounted the weapon against his shoulder. "All I'm saying is we don't know Tanas very well yet. Don't allow him to take advantage of your ah good nature."

His gaze darting to Tanas, Adric blushed, caught again by emotions that he didn't fully understand. He nodded. "Alright."

With a squeeze to his young, far too trusting friend's shoulder, the Doctor let the matter drop; he guided Adric's finger to the trigger. "Remember what I said, follow the bird with your sights – "

"It's not a bird, Doctor; it's an elliptical piece of clay."

Adric's lips twitched and the Doctor heaved up a sigh of mock despair, feeling on firmer footing. "Most of clay pigeon terminology is taken from live shooting; thus the disc is referred to as a bird, a hit is referred to as a kill, the catapult mechanism a trap. Remember it will kick some. Concentrate. Ready? Pull!"

The clay disc soared effortlessly through the air, Adric missing it completely. Face burning with shame, he was about to beat a hasty retreat but the Doctor snagged him firmly. "One more go."

"Doctor – "

"Think of the bird's arc as a mathematical equation. Compute its trajectory."

Adric's eyes danced with renewed enthusiasm. "I'll have to compensate for velocity, wind speed and air displacement, of course," he remarked.

The Doctor called pull, the disc whipped through the blue sky and this time shattered as Adric's computations enabled him to calculate its descent. As the groundsmen readied the next flight, the Doctor took advantage of the break in proceedings to avail himself of some refreshment. He crossed to the awning which had been erected to provide some shade in the enervating heat and poured himself a tall glass of home-made lemonade, wishing for some ice. There was the crunch of gravel behind him and he turned, beckoning Tegan over; the air hostess looked disheartened.

"Where's Nyssa?" he asked, his gaze returning to the shoot.

"Practising on the piano, I think." Tegan made a face and added reluctantly, "We had a falling out about the class system." The Doctor raised an eyebrow but forbore from commenting. Wanting to forget her quarrel, Tegan nodded towards Adric. "He's very good. I suppose he's using maths in some complicated way to calculate when to shoot."

"Applying the laws of chaos theory, yes," the Doctor replied seriously. His gaze was still fixed on their young companion who was laughing and joking with Tanas again. A frown clouded the Time Lord's usually open face as he tried to fathom out why he was concerned: there was nothing specific, just the same slight niggle as before, but over the centuries he had learned to pay attention to slight niggles.

On the one hand, he was pleased to see Adric, who usually avoided sporting activities like the plague, having a go at the complicated game. Travelling in the TARDIS tended to isolate one from normal social interaction and usually the Doctor was relieved to see how confident Adric was in making new friends and slipping into different cultures. Recently, however, he had noticed that Adric's gullibility and impulsiveness tended to draw him to … inappropriate people like Monarch and Hindle.

Tanas was an eminent figure; personable, engaging, and magnetic who might be a stabilising influence on the impetuous youth. He saw Tanas move behind the boy in a parody of the Doctor's earlier position, and guide the Alzarian through a few rounds. Adric showed no discomfort at such an invasion of his personal space but then Tanas moved closer still, his fingers brushing across the back of Adric's neck, his hips tilting forward. The Doctor was striding over to them in an instant, pulling Adric away from the other man and wrapping a protective arm round his shoulders. Adric blinked up at him in confusion.

The Doctor plastered on a bright smile. "I propose a competition, Sir Tanas. Thirty birds each."

"An excellent notion, my dear Doctor; however I must warn you that I am considered to be the best shot in these three counties."

The game was soon afoot and, despite the casual smiles and jocularity, the air fairly crackled with tension: the two men were in deadly earnest. With only one set of five to go, their scores were even – neither had missed a kill yet. The Doctor made a play of cleaning out the chamber of his gun and blowing imaginary dust off the cartridge before stepping up to the mark. Tanas watched his rival intently, his eyes sparking with fire.

"Pull!" the Doctor called and five targets launched themselves into the air on different trajectories. Adric hissed, his mathematician's mind already calculating the odds of his friend hitting all five, and not finding them favourable. He watched him mount the gun on his shoulder and, as cool as a cucumber (to use one of Tegan's incomprehensible phrases) track and kill the first four. The last target was spinning towards the ground, its speed and course erratic. The Doctor held the bird in his sights just as it dipped behind a bush, fired – and missed.

There was a collective expulsion of disappointment but an enthusiastic buzz of applause as the Time Lord, ever the gracious loser, returned to his two companions. Adric hugged him a little awkwardly and Tegan squeezed his arm, saying, "I thought you never missed?"

He raised an eyebrow at the slight dig and then turned to watch his rival. Again the trap flung out five erratic flights and, despite his loyalty to his friend, Adric couldn't help but be impressed by Tanas. With his black mane of hair rippling, his ruffled shirt sticking to his muscled back with sweat and his pantaloons stretched over his taut bottom as he took up a shooting stance he was the very image of manhood. He hit four of the rapidly spinning discs before they had fairly left the catapult. One remained, still high in the air. With a dismissive shrug, Tanas mounted his rifle again – and shattered it cleanly.

Deeply disappointed for her friend, Tegan began to turn away when something sliced across her upper arm with enough momentum to cause her to stagger. Adric caught her, his sharp words at her clumsiness dying on his lips when he saw the crimson stain.

"Doctor!" he called, his own shock preventing him from doing anything more constructive than stare.

Before the Doctor, who had gone over to the groundsmen to offer his thanks for their services, had time to respond, Tanas materialised as if from thin air and wrapped a sinuous arm round Tegan's waist, leading her to a chair under the shade of the awning. He ripped away the sleeve, his fingers delicately tracing a trickle of blood travelling down her arm. Tegan wrenched away.

"What happened?" came a sharp voice and Tegan looked up with relief to see the Doctor striding over. He knelt next to her and inspected the injury, somehow managing politely but firmly to knock Tanas away. He winced in sympathy: the gash was deep.

"A piece of clay, I think," she managed between clenched teeth.

The Time Lord fished around in his jacket pocket for a handkerchief which he held in place to staunch the bleeding. "Adric, go down to the kitchens and ask for some salve. Bring bandages too."

The boy blinked and the Doctor nudged him, breaking his reverie. "Of course!" he said and dashed off. The Doctor gave Tegan an encouraging smile and elevated her arm, still applying pressure.

"It'll stop in a jiffy," he said gently.

"Will it need stitching?" she asked, fearfully imagining the rusty instruments of Regency medicine.

"Hardly, Tegan. It looks a lot worse than it is."

Adric returned a minute or two later, panting slightly, a small jar of ointment in one hand and a roll of crude linen bandages in the other. Easing away the hanky, the Doctor grunted in satisfaction to see that the bleeding was stopping. He indicated the jar of ointment with his chin, saying, "Adric, get the lid off the jar, there's a good chap."

"Allow me," Tanas interposed, reaching for the jar and twisting off the lid with such force that a small dollop splatted onto his hand. Hissing in surprise he wiped the excess off and passed the jar to the Time Lord, remarking, "A regrettable incident after an enjoyable afternoon. My profound apologies, Miss Jovanka."

Tegan glared, saying curtly, "No worries. I'm fine now – if you'll excuse us." As Tanas withdrew with an injured bow, Adric noticed in passing that he had a small burn on his hand.

"That was rude, Tegan," the Doctor admonished.

"Well, he gives me the creeps. Always snooping around, materialising out of nowhere."

"It is his house," the Time Lord reminded her reasonably enough. He scooped up a generous amount of the viscous yellowy-white salve and applied it to the injury with gentle fingers. "Ah," he added as he caught a whiff of the ointment's pungent odour, "Allium sativum."

"But that's garlic," Adric protested.

"Quite right. Garlic was used extensively in Regency times as an antiseptic."

Tegan grinned, albeit a little unsteadily. "Great, at least it'll keep the vampires away. Ouch!"

Deftly bandaging the injury, the Doctor stood up and seeing that his patient was still a little pale, rested his fingers lightly over her temples, instructing her to breathe deeply. Tegan smiled as the pain seemed to lift miraculously. "Thanks," she said a little awkwardly. She glanced over as Nyssa came hurrying across the grass and crouched next to her.

"I only just heard what happened," she said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Nyssa," Tegan said, giving her friend's hand a squeeze.

The Doctor beamed happily at peace being restored. "Ah, here comes Abraham with the tea. Just what the Doctor ordered."

Later that evening, just as the sun was starting to set, the four travellers engaged themselves in a light-hearted game of croquet. Tegan proved to be quite adept at the game and was giving the Doctor a run for his money, while the other two, baffled by the game's rules, could hardly swing the mallet properly.

"I didn't realise that croquet was a Regency game," Tegan remarked as she lined up her yellow ball with the hoop. Despite the pleasures of the game, she was still restless and bored with the Regency experience: the fictional Elizabeth Bennett might have dashed across fields until her petticoat was six inches in mud, but real-life female individuality was met with incredulity, if not hostility. "And I'm even more surprised that mere females were allowed to play."

The Doctor pouted as the air hostess knocked his ball off target. "It became massively popular towards the end of the Regency period; nearly all of the big estates held croquet parties. Nyssa, let your mallet swing freely – not that freely," he added, as the item in question went soaring through the air, narrowly missing his head. Once it had been retrieved, he continued. "As for women playing it, I would tentatively suggest that that is why the game proved so popular: apart from dancing, it was one of the few occasions where women were encouraged to interact with men."

"Saucy things," Tegan muttered with a grin and then looked up as Abraham approached, a silver salver in his hand. He gave the quartet a dry bow and held the salver and its note out to Adric; when his young friend hesitated, obviously unsure whether to take just the note or the salver as well, the Doctor smoothly intervened. He snagged up the note and politely dismissed the butler.

"Here," he said to Adric, passing the note to him, "It won't bite."

"Who's it from?"

Tegan snorted. "How should we know? Open it and find out."

After turning the note over in his hands a few times, the Alzarian finally worked out that the folded card was sealed by means of a stamp of wax; breaking the seal clumsily, he took a moment or two to decipher the florid copper plate handwriting. "His handwriting is almost as bad as yours used to be," he remarked to the Doctor.

"I'll have you know my handwriting has improved immeasurably since my regeneration."

"You wish. Sir Tanas is hosting a hunting party tomorrow afternoon and requests the pleasure of my company," Adric reported. "He hopes the prospect of a trophy motivates me to accept the invitation. What does he mean?"

"A trophy is a male deer – it's considered to be a mark of skill and manliness to bring down a stag," the Doctor explained. He frowned, looking thoughtful. "Funny, I thought the hunting season didn't start for another few weeks."

"You mean they hunt animals for sport?" Nyssa asked in horror. "That's terrible!"

"Don't worry, Nyssa, I'm not going," Adric said with a bright smile and a squeeze to her arm; she beamed at him warmly. "Some of the Elite used to hunt wild pigs in the forest beyond the Starliner – used to turn my stomach. Is it my go? I hit the ball through the hoop, don't I?"

After a fierce competition between Tegan and the Doctor, which ended in a draw, the four retired to the rose garden and its honeysuckle arbour for lemonade. A magnificent blue and green macaw paced restlessly, its feet tethered to its perch. Reminded of the exotically-coloured birds of Alzarius, Adric broke off a piece of scone and offered it to the bird. It bobbed its head once or twice, its beady eye appearing to size the boy up, then it gave a low caw and accepted the titbit, fastidiously discarding the cake until it was left with just the sultana.

Tegan had just eaten her second scone with cream and jam. She slumped in her chair in a most unladylike fashion and patted her belly. "If I explode from eating all this Regency food, I shall hold you entirely responsible," she teased Adric who was trying to get the macaw to mimic him.

"Oh?"

"You're the one that brought us here."

Adric looked startled. "Silly, I already told you that I didn't set the co-ordinates. Do you think the bird talks?"

"Adric," Nyssa remonstrated gently. "Stop fibbing."

The light mood vanished instantly. "But I didn't! You must have done it, Doctor."

Tegan intervened. "You wanted to watch the important planetary alignment. So you must have set the co-ordinates."

"I checked the astronomical information once we'd already landed actually."

The Doctor helped himself to a third slice of cake in a transparent effort to give himself something to do. "Why don't we let the matter drop, hmmm? This orange cake is delicious."

"No," Adric said rudely. "You … you actually think that I'm LYING? Why would I lie about something so stupid and petty?"

The Time Lord looked shifty as if he would prefer to be anywhere but here having this conversation. He cleared his throat, looked out over the croquet lawn, and then back to Adric, meeting his gaze. "I know for a fact that I didn't set the co-ordinates. Tegan and Nyssa do not possess the skill necessary. Therefore, by a process of elimination, it had to be you."

Before Adric could reply, Nyssa caught his hand, squeezing it gently. "It doesn't matter, Adric," she said gently. "No-one's angry with you. Just admit your fault and we can have another game of croquet."

Ignoring his friend's conciliatory words, Adric stared at the Doctor, hurt rapidly morphing into anger. "I get it. This is another case of my 'deprived, delinquent background' isn't it? I stole a riverfruit once, Doctor – woops, that's a LIE. I tried to steal a riverfruit once – I didn't succeed."

"You stole the image translator," the Doctor pointed out, impatience creeping into his voice.

"Which you kept and used! Isn't that stealing too – or does stealing not apply to high and mighty, omnipotent Time Lords? You also broke into the Starliner as I recall – isn't that breaking and entering?" He was shaking with anger and injured pride: he could accept with equanimity that Tegan would not believe him but for the Doctor and Nyssa not to accept his veracity – that cut him to the quick.

The Doctor stirred his tea. Arguments and outward displays of emotion were never his strong suit; much better just to leave it alone and let the matter blow over.

"You just don't trust me, do you?" Adric asked.

"Under normal circumstances," the Doctor began uncertainly, "of course I trust you – "

"Like hell you do!"

With that, he turned on his heels and marched off.

Midnight.

Icy fingers caressed Adric's body, leaching his warmth as they explored his skin. Those lifeless lips covered his, silencing him and stealing his breath. The weight of that hard body pressed him to the bed, trapping him, allowing no movement. His limbs felt like lead as a voice in his head whispered low and seductive: "You will give yourself over to me, sweet prince. You will come to me and you will be mine."

"No," he mumbled, "the Doctor …"

"He cannot help you. He will not help. Even if you could beg for his aid. Only to me will you beg and only I will give you what you desire." The cold hands were inside his nightshirt now, tracing every curve and hollow as if mapping his body through touch alone. "Oh yes, my little prince, you will be mine."

The library, the Doctor had discovered, was everything that he had hoped it to be: glass fronted book cases lined three of the walls, a low table occupied the centre while in the corner stood a magnificent Louis XIV-style writing table with elegantly bowed legs which ended in clawed feet. The top, inlaid with green leather and edged with gilt, held a bottle of ink, some papers tidily piled and a gas lamp.

Time seemed to fly by and it was just as the grandfather clock in the hall struck two that the door suddenly flung open, emitting a blast of cold air which immediately extinguished the candles and the gas lamp. Curiosity peaked, the Time Lord strode to the open door and peered into the corridor.

As he stood there, the Time Lord noticed something strange: the cold seemed to be localised. In the direction of the hallway and the stairs, the air was warm, as befitted a late summer night; in the direction of the guest wing, the air was icy. Re-lighting his candle, the marvels of the library forgotten in the face of this new discovery, the Time Lord trotted off towards the guest wing, the cold gradually increasing. After a few minutes of careful inspection, he ascertained that the cold seemed to be concentrated around the entrance to his own bed chamber.

Shielding his flickering candle, and agreeably titillated, he opened the bedroom door: the room was frigid. As his vision adjusted to the gloom, tiny specks of light danced before his eyes like glitter falling in a snow globe. He crossed to Adric's bed and pressed the back of his hand to the boy's pale cheek, unsurprised to feel how cold it was; he removed one of the blankets off his own bed and tucked it over him. Adric slept on, undisturbed.

In fact, the Time Lord thought a moment later, his friend was uncharacteristically still; Adric being one of the most untidy, energetic sleepers the Time Lord had ever had the misfortune to share a room with. On many occasions during their adventures, the Doctor had seen Adric with the covers tossed on the floor or pulled over his head; curled up in a ball or lying spread-eagled. A few times his vigorous tossing and turnings had even sent him rolling onto the floor where he had simply curled up, his sleep not one jot disturbed. Tonight, however, he was lying as still as a corpse in a coffin, his chest barely seeming to rise and fall. He must be exhausted after the clay pigeon shooting, the Doctor thought, his fond smile tinged with regret for the argument they had shared. The boy stirred slightly, his brow furrowing.

"Go back to sleep," the Time Lord murmured, wetting his fingers to snuff out the candle on the bedside table that his friend had left burning. He stoked up the tiny fire, adding a few more logs, and settled himself in one of the rather severe, straight-backed chairs in front of the hearth. He opened a random book from the shelf, shifted slightly so as to illuminate the pages better, and began to read.

It was only a few minutes later that Adric gave a blood-curdling scream and bolted upright in bed, his eyes staring but obviously still asleep.

"No. No. Don't! Not that! I'll never join you!"

Awkwardly snagging his wildly flailing arms, the Doctor shook him firmly. The terrified screams and cries continued for some minutes, despite the Doctor's best efforts to rouse the boy, and then, quite abruptly, Adric seemed to snap out of the terror. He cowered away from the Doctor as if trying to ward him off and then reason returned and he slumped against his friend's shoulder, one hand pressed over his thudding heart.

"Easy, Adric," the Doctor soothed. "You're safe. Nothing to worry about."

Adric's breathing was still ragged and his eyes darted uneasily around the room. He was beginning to shiver as the adrenaline surge deserted him and the sweat cooled.

Finally, he managed to speak. "I'm alright now."

"Yes, you are," the Doctor said calmly as he settled him back against the pillows. "You were having a night terror. Do you remember what it was about? You shouted out 'don't.' Don't what, do you know?"

"No. Just … a feeling of terror, of something evil."

"Perfectly natural. Most victims don't remember anything specific. Any other attacks?"

Adric licked his lips, his gaze dropping away, as he vividly recalled the nightmare that had assaulted him last night. "No."

"I see." He waited him out, his gaze steady.

"Alright! I'm lying! I'm good at that, remember. Last night. Satisfied?"

"I'll let you know. What was the night terror about last night?"

"The same as this one: just a sense of something … wanting me. Something evil, something powerful. Touching me. I can't explain. I … just can't."

"Adric, you can tell me anything – you should know that by now."

Adric seemed to have to struggle with himself before replying. "You don't understand," he said at length. "I **can't** tell you."

"If this is about our argument earlier – "

"Just leave it!"

Injured by the boy's lack of trust in him but trying not to show it, the Doctor made to snuff out the candle; Adric stopped him.

"Don't."

"Alright. I'll leave it burning until you drop off."

Without another word, the boy pulled the covers up and rolled over away from the Doctor, feigning sleep. Only when he heard the Time Lord return to the fireside, did he dare move and then only to slip his hand down to the ragged wound on his chest. He opened his eyes and stared dully at the blood on his fingers. He curled up even tighter.

By the fireside, the Doctor stared through the darkness at his friend and felt next to useless.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning, the Doctor and the two women took morning coffee on the terrace, lazily playing a few hands of cards while they waited for their hosts to appear.

"I could get used to this," Nyssa said, smiling round at their picturesque surroundings. "No threat, no adventures, nothing but peace and quiet."

"And boredom," Tegan muttered mutinously. "I'd rather face an invasion force by hairy, purple aliens."

"I'll hold you to that," the Doctor said, waggling his finger at her, "and for your information, the Ribenium are an entirely peaceful race. Jack of hearts, splendid."

While Nyssa was puzzling over her turn, Tegan glanced up to see Adric approaching. Instinctively she looked down at her bare wrist where her watch should have been. It must be close to ten, she thought, and yet Adric had only just managed to drag himself out of bed. She did not miss the Doctor's look of concern: Adric's skin was pallid as if it had been leeched of colour, dark smudges circled his eyes and he looked, generally, as if he had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

"Who's winning?" he asked, hovering by the table and not meeting anybody's eyes.

Nyssa smiled at him too brightly. "The Doctor. Help us to even the score."

With a fleeting but grateful smile, the boy slipped into the spare chair and accepted the hand that Tegan was dealing out; Tegan didn't miss the fact that his hands were shaking.

The game progressed with Tegan and Nyssa fighting to ensure there were no long silences, their well-intentioned efforts only serving to highlight the awkwardness. Every now and then Adric darted a look over at the Doctor but as soon as his friend picked up on the glance, he looked away, biting his lip.

"What are you two guys going to do today?" Tegan finally asked, having exhausted the conversational possibilities of the weather. "For us women, the fun never ceases. I might pick some flowers or – be still my beating heart – I might even take a turn round the park. If I have to embroider one more shirt or practise one more scale on that blasted 'Instrument' I swear I shall go mad."

"It's just a different culture," Nyssa admonished.

Not wanting a repeat of their earlier argument about Regency culture, Tegan snorted eloquently but let the matter drop. "I fold. Adric, you win again," she said, shoving the central pile of matchsticks towards the mini-mountain in front of Adric. "You must be cheating, that's all I can say! Ow!" She glared over at the Doctor, rubbing at her kicked shin. "What was –. Look, Adric, I didn't mean anything by it. It was just a joke."

Adric had leapt to his feet, having to grab hold of the table because he was trembling so much. Before he could reply however, there was a ponderous clearing of a throat and Abraham was looming.

"Excellent timing," the Doctor muttered, turning a fixed smile on the butler. "Yes, Abraham, what is it?"

"Excuse the interruption, sir. Sir Tanas would like to know whether Mr Adric is joining the hunting party."

"Thank Sir Tanas for him but Mr Adric does not wish to participate – "

"Why not? I might as well add murder of defenceless animals to my list of crimes. Abraham, please tell Sir Tanas that I would be delighted to join him."

The Doctor's patience snapped and once Abraham had withdrawn, he turned on Adric. "Now you're just being childish."

"Naturally. Did it ever occur to you to wonder why I like Tanas? He treats me as an adult, he doesn't neglect me for weeks on end – and he hasn't abandoned me like you did on Deva Loka and Castrovalva. You know what? I think you're jealous, Doctor. Jealous that I don't follow you about like a little puppy, wagging its tail anymore."

"No, you reserve that for Tanas apparently."

At that Adric stalked off, knocking his chair over in the process and ignoring Nyssa's calls.

Galloping over the countryside, feeling your stomach lurch and then, blessedly, resettle as you jumped a hedgerow should have been wildly thrilling. There was a great camaraderie between the hunters, and Tanas was making every effort to ensure Adric's safety and enjoyment. Still, despite his host's genial laughter, and the approving glances of his peers when he proved that he could sit a horse tolerably well, Adric felt deflated and nauseous. He told himself the heaviness in his stomach and the hot pain behind his eyes was merely down to natural vertigo at being mounted so far off the ground.

The hounds had caught 'the quarry' some minutes ago and the atmosphere was electric. Tanas studied the copse ahead intently, a hooded, almost cruel look overtaking his usually affable features. He titled his head back as if tasting the very air and then he gave a swift, sharp smile. "He's in there, of that there can be no doubt." He wrenched his eyes away from the silent copse to spear Adric with a look. "You shall not return unbloodied."

Adrenaline was beginning to surge through Adric's system; giving a terse nod, he spurred his horse on, every sense alive to the sights and sounds around him. Someone to his left startled a flight of pheasants but Adric barely noticed. Ahead of him there was a chorus of yelping and barking from the mastiff dogs that Tanas bred; a second later a magnificent red deer stag broke cover, his eyes white, foam flaring from his mouth. While Adric watched in amazement, the stag bounded over a thicket of hedges and galloped off, the hounds in quick pursuit, nipping at its heels.

"Forward!" roared Tanas, spurring his horse and Adric's on until they were only a few feet behind the ravening hounds, close enough to hear the ragged terrified breathing of the deer.

One of the hounds leapt onto the deer's back; it gave a terrible mewling sound and stumbled. Before the other hounds could swarm all over it, it was up again, its valiant escape continuing. Over and over the hounds ripped into it, tiring it, controlling it; Adric kept up, the blood singing in his ears, blocking out everything.

Ahead of them, glinting through the trees, he could just glimpse a fast-flowing river. As they drew closer, dodging branches and jumping over fallen trunks, the deer broke the cover of the trees and with a tremendous effort, jumped into the water. It gained the other side but its strength was fast deserting it; it staggered up the bank, its hind quarters drooping. Like a swarm the hounds were on it, driving it to the ground and then at their master's sharp order, backing off a few feet to form a menacing, growling circle. Adric found himself leaping off his horse's back and following Tanas as his host approached the exhausted, catatonic beast. The stag gave a miserable low groan and then Tanas was upon it, jerking its great head up and slicing deep into its jugular. Adric drew closer, close enough to smell the metallic blood, to feel the dying stag's heat and hear its last few struggling breaths. Tanas, almost reverently, dipped his long skeletal fingers into the blood and dripped them onto Adric's forehead.

The boy wavered on his feet, his eyes drooping closed, and then quite suddenly, as if something had snapped inside him, he was standing over a defenceless noble animal – and he had helped to kill it. Clapping his hand over his mouth and with a low groan, Adric wrenched away; he fell over a tree trunk and was heartily sick.

When all that was left was dry, painful heaves, he slumped down against the tree trunk and drew his knees up to his chest: he had slaughtered that noble animal as surely as if he had sliced its jugular himself. It was disgusting, revolting.

A shadow fell across him and heavy hands clasped his shoulders but he didn't bother to look up; on some fundamental level he already knew who his visitor was and what he wanted. There was a sharp pain in his chest and then welcome oblivion.

Disgusted that the Doctor had not stopped Adric from attending the hunt, Tegan had stormed out. Nyssa and the Doctor had retired to the back parlour where the former was practising her scales on the inferior piano, while the latter was pacing up and down in front of the window like a caged animal.

When she hit a wrong note for the fourth time, Nyssa said with more asperity than was her wont: "Pacing isn't helping, Doctor." She watched him for a few moments and then replaced the lid on the piano and added, "You're really worried about him, aren't you?"

"No!" the Doctor snapped and then with a touch of his fourth incarnation's contrariness, "Yes, of course I am."

"We have to take into account his background. I know I grew up rather sheltered - but I have a great deal to be thankful for: my father loved me, I had the friendship of the Consuls and I had the personal support and encouragement of the Keeper. Adric never had that." Complete opposites in many respects, but drawn together by their shared grief, Nyssa and Adric had struck up a friendship straight away; Adric breathed excitement into Nyssa's somewhat humdrum existence while Nyssa reciprocated by moderating her friend's impulsive excesses. Surprisingly, given his usual openness and verbosity, Adric had been reticent about discussing his family – he would spend hours relating stories about his education in the Great Book Room, but rarely about his early life with his family.

"Yes, yes. I know all that. His brother was a born rebel – and rightly so, given the ineptitude and wilful procrastination of the Deciders – but he was hardly a stable influence on Adric."

"'A deprived, delinquent background?'"

The Doctor winced. "Yes, well, that may have been a tad harsh. When I said it, on Monarch's ship, I was ah worried about him. Considering his neglected background, I'm, well, I'm …" he trailed off uncomfortably.

"Proud of him? Then what is worrying you? Is it his going hunting?"

"_Die Verlorene Ehre der Katharina Blum_," the Doctor proclaimed obscurely. "Splendid book – you should read it."

"Yes, Doctor," Nyssa said patiently and waited for her friend to explain.

"An innocent woman is accused of committing a crime that she did not commit. She is hounded by the press who leave her life in tatters. With her honour destroyed, her only option is to fulfil their expectations of her: she becomes a murderer."

"Adric felt that he was being accused falsely of lying and stealing so he thought he might as well lose his other moral principles too – and go hunting."

"Exactly." The Doctor was quiet for a moment, tapping his steepled fingers together. "I understand even if I don't condone his actions. No, no, the hunting issue does not overly worry me. What does concern me is the bare-faced deceit. He's lied and cheated in the past – of course he has – but he's always apologised, always confessed his error."

"Except where the setting of the co-ordinates is concerned?"

"He's being secretive about his actions and his feelings and that's just not like him." The Doctor stopped pacing and stared out of the voile-shrouded window to the lawn beyond. "He always used to confide in me," he added somewhat petulantly.

Nyssa went over to her friend and squeezed his arm; so deep in thought was he that at first he did not register her touch. He looked down at her, reading his own worry in the candid brown eyes. "He knows you care."

The Time Lord cleared his throat, colour flushing his cheeks. "Yes, well, goes without saying."

Hiding a smile, Nyssa piloted him over to the settee and poured him out a cup of tea; absently he added four sugar lumps.

"Doctor? Could Adric be right about not setting the co-ordinates?"

The Time Lord's eyebrows shot up to disappear beneath his shock of blond hair. "My dear girl, I am not senile yet!"

"No, of course not," she soothed, "but how do you know? You can be a tad forgetful when you're preoccupied."

"Forgetful?!" He glared at the Traken but her eyes were very clear and candid and he found his own gaze slipping away: Nyssa might look innocent but she was just as strong-willed as Tegan when she thought the situation demanded it. "Point taken. However, in this instance, the evidence is plain: the TARDIS automatically records who programs in course co-ordinates. The old girl stated quite clearly that it was Adric."

Disappointment and hurt fell through Nyssa's gentle eyes. "Then he is lying."

"Perhaps I made an error of judgement keeping him with me after the Hydrax incident. He needs stability – a home. Ahem, and I admit … I don't always give him the time that he craves. Growing boys and all that. Perhaps, well, perhaps, I should let him go." The Doctor gave the Traken a sad smile and went to stand by the window again, his keen gaze sweeping the parklands as if trying to reach his absent friend emotionally as well as visually.

Still fuming at Adric for daring to massacre defenceless animals - and at the Doctor for being spineless - Tegan found herself roaming the mansion in an effort to cool down and to avoid another couple of hours imprisoned with Lady Wilhelmina embroidering petticoats.

Despite its regal aspect from the park, the mansion was in fact a hotchpotch of sprawling wings, cobbled together and added to over the decades. Doors that ought to lead somewhere had the disconcerting habit of running into dead ends while other, tucked-away doors led into sumptuous apartments. With no clear objective in mind Tegan crossed to a massive door half-hidden in the shadows of the gallery above. As she got closer, having to squint in the dim light, she saw the door was carved with animals: a rabbit (or hare, she could never tell them apart), a bird with a cruel beak and a wolf baying at a full moon. Intrigued, she slipped inside to find the door opened onto a passageway that led to nothing but another identical door at the far end. The air smelt musty with an odd metallic tang to it and the floor was caked in dust. She was about to advance down the corridor when the Doctor, who was coming from the stables, called her back.

"Come and have a look at this," she began.

"Not now, Tegan. The hunt has returned but Adric is missing."

It was the jovial singing of a song thrush in the thicket that drew Adric from his reverie. He blinked several times, trying to think clearly around the throbbing pain in his head. He was still sitting against the tree, but of his erstwhile comrades there was no sign. As he scrambled to his feet, a wave of dizziness like the world was turning somersaults hit him and he had to grab at the tree trunk to prevent himself falling over. His chest throbbed, a dull thudding in time to his blood's pulse and, glancing down, he noticed his shirt was stained with blood. Again. A small sound invaded his preoccupation and his horse clip-clopped over, whinnying in greeting. Adric patted its forelock and tried to be amused when the determined creature pressed into his shoulder demanding sugar lumps.

"Well," he said, his voice sounding thin and reedy in the stillness, "we'd better get home." He surveyed the animal's broad back; it might as well have been a mountain. He stepped rather dubiously onto the tree trunk and then swung himself, slowly and painfully onto his horse, gritting his teeth against both the headache and the lancing pain in his chest. Arranging his reins, he squeezed with his thighs and the horse obediently walked on, gliding through the forest as if aware of his rider's discomfort. Adric let his eyes droop closed.

The next thing he knew was that the patient sound of his horse's hooves turned from dull thunks to sharp, ringing clip-clops; he creaked open an eye to discover he had arrived at the courtyard outside the stables. His horse whickered at him and automatically he patted its glossy neck.

"Alright, you want sugar lumps. Understood." Making a supreme effort, he swung his right leg over his horse, turned onto his belly and slid, slowly and carefully to the ground: it was a very long way down. Then, staring straight ahead so as not to jar his head, he led his mount into the cool shade of the stable. Not used to solemnity, the beast turned its head and nibbled on the buttons of his jacket.

"There you are! The others returned hours ago! Where have you been?" It was Nyssa and her face was pale with anxiety. "The Doctor's been worried sick."

"That I would have liked to see," he remarked dryly despite the fatigue, feeling a hot pain that had nothing to do with his injury blossom in his chest.

Now that she had the opportunity to look closely, Nyssa could not help but notice how white her friend looked. "Did you hurt yourself? You look awful."

"I'm fine," he snapped back but made the mistake of looking at her. All his barriers seemed to topple in the face of that gentle rebuke and he sagged against the horse.

"Please talk to me, Adric."

"I … I don't even know. I feel dizzy and I've got a headache." The unfamiliar word sounded strange in his ears. He flinched as she pressed a warm hand to his forehead.

"You're so cold. You ought to talk to the Doctor. Even Alzarians get ill occasionally."

"I can't, Nyssa. He thinks I'm a liar."

"You're ill. He'll understand."

"I said no and I mean it. And you mustn't tell him either. Promise."

"Now you're being unreasonable."

"This is none of your concern. Or his. I'll be fine. Promise me you won't say anything."

Tegan would have become defensive, impatient, shoving Adric away with cruel words but Nyssa simply took his cold hand in hers and said gently, "Very well, I promise. But someone has to break this silly deadlock between you and the Doctor."

"I didn't set the co-ordinates here!"

"Do you remember Traken, Adric?"

Adric shifted, confused by the abrupt change. "Always." After Castrovalva, when Nyssa had been desolate, grieving for her father and her lost world, Adric had conjured up a block transfer image of Traken for her. It had taken him days to perfect using a technique that he would always associate with pain thanks to the Master's cruel web, but he had considered that a small price to pay to see his friend smile again.

"I knew a young man on Traken. Impetuous, fiery – and one of the bravest people I have ever known. He stayed by my bedside, reading stories to me when I was ill, and risked the agony of the web rather than see his friends destroyed in Event One. He jumped an armed android to protect me – and he made me my own private Traken that saved my sanity. I think I know what that young man would do."

Later that afternoon, the Doctor found himself roving round the parklands and gardens of the manor house; Tegan, he knew, had requisitioned the ballroom and was taking impromptu dancing lessons from Abigail in preparation for the imminent ball, while Adric, upon his belated return from the hunt had retired to his room, claiming he wished to study some computations. The notion was a transparent lie but Nyssa's quick shake of the head had silenced the Doctor's questions. Nyssa, Abraham deigned to inform him, was presently occupied in the herb garden at the rear of the house. He went through the rusting iron archway and surveyed the garden, raising a surprised eyebrow when he discovered it to be overgrown and ill-kempt, in marked contrast to the rest of the grounds. Nyssa was kneeling on an old blanket, a wicker basket by her side. She glanced up at his approach, looking uncharacteristically harried.

"Oh, Doctor! It's you!"

"Indeed it is, Nyssa. Doing a spot of gardening?"

"Gardening? No. I mean yes. I thought I'd collect some herbs for … cooking." She scrambled up, brushing the hem of her skirts, and walked on, not quite looking at him. "How is Tegan doing?"

"She was learning the quadrille last time I looked." Adroitly the Doctor took the basket from her and examined the contents. "Hmm, marjoram, chamomile and feverfew."

Nyssa's cheeks coloured. "Yes, I've … developed a bit of a headache. Probably from all that … needlework."

"I see." The Doctor tilted her chin up, studied her eyes. "You were practising calligraphy earlier."

"Was I? Oh yes! I meant calligraphy," she said in confusion.

"You too, Nyssa?"

"I beg your pardon?"

He tapped her forehead gently. "Lying. At least Adric is proficient; you are appalling. If you are intending to make a habit of it, I suggest you practise very hard."

Nyssa began to stammer an apology but the Doctor shushed her imperiously. "This foolishness has gone on long enough," he rapped, slipping into his first incarnation's tetchiness. "I take it Adric is the one with the headache? Yes or no, my girl – stop stammering. Hmm, thought so. Really, Nyssa, why didn't you tell me?"

"He asked me not to."

The Doctor rolled his eyes heavenward. "Do you remember when you father hesitated about giving me the plans to the source manipulator? There was a principle involved – he'd given his word to keep the plans secret."

"And I told him that there was a greater principle – the safety of Traken."

"Exactly," the Doctor said as he ushered her from the garden. "There's a very confused, ill young man inside and he needs my help. And yours. Now, what exactly did Adric tell you?"

His headache had not improved; in fact if anything the pounding had increased. Adric poured hot water into the basin, having to hold onto the sturdy washstand with his free hand for support. When the dizziness had eased, he slipped out of his shirt for, despite having a wash following his return from the hunt and indeed putting on a fresh shirt to replace the soiled one, he still felt dirty and generally unclean. He scoured his arms and hands, using the bristly nail brush that the valet had brought up for him, losing himself in the mechanical repetition of scrubbing. The door opened abruptly and, startled, he looked up to see the Doctor striding towards him.

Trying not to look furtive, he reached for his abandoned shirt and slipped it on over his head before sitting on the settee by the fire. "What do you want anyway?" he asked, discovering that he was too tired to make a scene.

The Doctor seemed to hesitate for a moment as if he were marshalling his thoughts, then he came over and proffered the thick tankard he had brought in with him. "I brought you some tea."

Adric rubbed at his temples. "No thanks, Doctor."

"It's for the headache that you don't have."

"Nyssa told you?! She promised – "

The Time Lord held up an imperious hand, effectively stopping him. "You're squinting, your eyes are dilated and your pulse is elevated. Drink it down."

The Doctor sat down on the settee next to him and arranged his hands in his lap quite deliberately as if he were intending to watch every mouthful. Adric let his gaze fall to the contents of the mug. The tea was a light greenish colour with flecks of herbs floating about on top. He sniffed it dubiously. "It smells like a meadow."

The Doctor was still regarding him; his gaze was quiet and composed but with an underlying strength and understanding that soothed the youth on some fundamental level.

"Did you enjoy the hunt?"

Adric made a face. "No," he murmured. He had kept so much bottled up that the words just seemed to tumble out of his mouth. "The deer was terrified. It tried so hard to get away but the hounds wouldn't let it. They pulled it to the ground, snarling and biting. Then Tanas slashed its throat. It … didn't die straight away."

"I'm so sorry, Adric."

Adric stared at the fire, remembering how he had followed Tanas and the other hunters, how he had harried the deer, wanted it dead. How the blood-lust had pounded in his skull, driving him on. "I threw up," he whispered. His hands were shaking and the Doctor took the half-full mug from him.

"Completely understandable. Did anything else happen, Adric? Did you fall off your horse? Hit your head?"

The images replayed, snatches of memory, of loathing and a deep abiding fear. A man with red eyes looming over him, sweeping his hands over his torso, kindling a fire. More than anything in the universe he wanted to tell the Doctor, stop the pain, stop the fear – but the words wouldn't come. The headache seemed to be squeezing out his willpower. "I can't tell you," he said at length, miserably.

Regarding his young friend for a moment, the Doctor pressed the mug back into his hands. "Finish that off," he ordered not unkindly. He came to stand behind Adric and rested his fingers lightly over his temples; Adric flinched. "Relax. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow and steady."

As Adric concentrated on his breathing, the Doctor rubbed his fingers in circles, easing the tension, feeling Adric beginning to unwind like an uncoiling spring. "That's the ticket." He urged Adric to sit forward and kneaded his fingers into his skull, applying just the right amount of pressure but always backing off when he sensed Adric was on the edge of pain. Finally he worked his hands across his neck and shoulders, opening the baggy shirt so he could work bare flesh. There was a pattern of almost-healed bruises on his shoulder; he stroked them lightly.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"I didn't set the co-ordinates."

"Why don't we … agree to disagree on that one for now?"

"Doctor, please – "

"Adric, listen to me," the Doctor replied urgently, using all his charisma and will to reach his friend. "Forget that – it's not important. What ah concerns me is that you have not trusted me."

"I couldn't."

He held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Putting aside the matter of setting the co-ordinates, would you agree that you have not been 100 percent hon … er frank with me?" He tilted up Adric's chin, compelling eye contact. "You didn't tell me about the headache or the other symptoms that you have been experiencing – and you took part in a sport that you ethically disagree with."

"I'm sorry – "

"I'm not angry with you. I want to help."

"Alzarians don't get ill, Doctor. I ...don't understand what's happening to me."

To Adric's surprise the Doctor smiled, a smile of affection and familiar exasperation. "That in 1980's vernacular, is a consignment of geriatric shoe repairers – a load of old cobblers. Everybody gets ill – including Alzarians." When Adric opened his mouth to protest, the Time Lord waggled his finger, slipping into lecture mode. "I downloaded the Starliner's files when I was helping the Deciders initiate launch. I can assure you, quite categorically, that Alzarians do suffer illness and debilitation. Granted, not to the same extent as say humans – but nevertheless, they do get ill."

"I've never had a headache or a cold."

"Actually yes, you have. However your body has healed the symptoms so quickly that you were not aware of it."

Adric took a deep breath, some of the fear and trepidation lifting. "I suppose so."

"What do you think about this one?" Tegan asked, twirling round in front of the Doctor and striking a cat-walk pose.

Stressed out by the events of the day and nursing another headache, Adric had retired to bed. Rather than accept Tanas' affable invitation to join him and his wife for a rubber of cards, the remaining travellers had opted to spend the evening in their own parlour. The two women were currently torturing the baffled Time Lord by trying on all the different gowns that the housekeeper had brought for the up and coming ball.

"It's red," the Doctor said, obviously completely out of his element.

"I know what colour it is! Does it suit me?"

"Erm, well, it's very nice, Tegan."

"I'm not sure," Nyssa remarked, "I think it's a bit showy. Doctor?"

"Well, from the stitching and general finish, I would surmise that it had been made in Paris."

Suppressing a wicked grin, Tegan fiddled with the plunging neckline. "Is it showing too much cleavage, Doc?"

The Time Lord coughed, but was saved from answering by the bedroom door opening and Adric coming in. He still looked half asleep: his usually tousled hair stood on end, his eyes were sleep-swollen and unfocused and, all in all, he just needed a teddy bear clutched in one hand to complete the picture of a child past its bedtime asking for a glass of milk.

Nyssa looked up. "Hello, Adric, would you like to join us. We're choosing outfits for the ball."

"He ought to be in bed," Tegan interjected. Adric ignored both women. He walked slowly to the door, blinking owlishly. Tegan put her hands on her hips and prepared for battle. "Hey, don't ignore me, you impolite – "

"Tegan, be quiet," the Doctor ordered, his gaze fixed on Adric. When the air hostess opened her mouth, about to tell him in no uncertain terms, that no-one, but no-one told her to be quiet, he spared her a Look which silenced her at once. He passed his fingers in front of Adric's eyes, humphing to himself when Adric gave no reaction. The youth reached for the door handle but the Doctor nipped in first, locking the door and pocketing the key. Adric tugged the door a few times, his movements becoming more agitated, then his hand went to the lock, searching for the key.

"Interesting," the Doctor murmured. Taking his arm, he piloted the youth over to the sofa. The boy sat down and then immediately stood again, his unblinking gaze returning to the door. Standing in front of him, effectively blocking the door from his view, the Doctor studied him carefully. "Adric, where are you going?"

Adric whimpered, his brow creasing.

"Must go," he mumbled, "Must go to him." He took a few steps towards the door but the Doctor gently nudged him away; Adric redoubled his efforts, becoming more and more agitated as his efforts to reach the door continued to be repelled. Finally the Doctor used brute force to haul the struggling boy onto the sofa and wrapped his arms securely round him. Adric persisted in his efforts, his arms lashing out wildly then, abruptly, his movements stilled and he slumped against the Doctor, too exhausted to fight any more.

"What's wrong with him?" Tegan asked.

"He's sleepwalking," Nyssa diagnosed, bringing over a blanket which she tucked round his shoulders; the Doctor, however, did not look too sure.

"But his eyes are open, he was trying to unlock the door – how can he be asleep?" Tegan objected.

"The victim can perform simple tasks; it's not uncommon," Nyssa replied. "Has he had an episode before, Doctor?"

"Not that I'm aware of. There's something very wrong here."

When the Gallifreyan refrained from explaining further, Nyssa said, "The somnambulism may be a symptom of some deeper trauma. Doctor, you said he'd been suffering from night terrors? It may be the subconscious's way of dealing with issues that his waking mind is keeping suppressed."

"Like the lying?" Tegan added.

"Oh, I think things are much more complex than that," the Doctor remarked. "Most somnambulists are passive and non-violent; when steered back to bed, for example, they usually drop off back to sleep as if nothing has happened. Not only was Adric cognitively aware enough to look for the missing key, he became seriously agitated when his objective was foiled."

Adric gave a cry of pain and then seemed to snap awake. He shook his head like a man coming out of a nightmare-ridden sleep and stared round at his three companions in amazement which quickly turned to embarrassment when he realised he was clad only in his nightshirt.

"What's happening? How did I get here? Doctor?"

Holding up his hands in a non-hostile gesture, the Doctor slipped off the sofa to crouch next to him, giving the boy some space. Keeping his voice steady he said, "Where were you going, Adric?"

"To him," he said automatically.

"Him? Who's he?"

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense." He pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed miserably. "My head hurts."

The Time Lord stoked up the fire and poured a glass of brandy. "Never mind. Here," he said to the shaken boy. "Just a sip."

"Alright," Tegan said pugnaciously, folding her arms as if she were prepared to fight anything that dared to come close to her Alzarian friend. "So what's the explanation?"

"He was in a trance state. Someone was controlling him."

"Like the Mara?"

"Yes. The headaches and dizzy spells were caused – in part, mark you - by his resisting the mental block. I should have worked it out sooner – much sooner. He kept saying 'I can't tell you' which I interpreted as meaning he was unwilling to tell me." The Doctor smiled sadly down at his friend. "In actuality, he meant 'I am not able to tell you.'"

As if the words had unlocked something deep inside, Adric met his mentor's gaze. "I wanted to tell you – so much – I just couldn't."

With an awkward pat to his friend's shoulder, the Doctor nodded his understanding. "I know that now, Adric. My sincerest apologies for doubting your integrity."

Once the women had departed for their own room and Adric had drifted off to sleep, the Doctor lay down on the other bed and breathed slowly, willing himself to relax. He needed to take time out, distance himself from the trials and tribulations – and just let himself think. The fire cracked and popped and, dimly, almost beyond even his superior hearing, he could hear the gentle ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece; he matched the beats of his heart to the rhythm …

The Doctor tore his way to full wakefulness like a drowning man clawing for the surface of the water. He shook his head and blinked but his eyelids felt as if they had lead weights on them, and just for a moment the compulsion to return to sweet slumber was overpowering. Making a supreme effort, he slipped off the bed and staggered to the washstand, tipping the entire contents of the now very cold water over his head.

Sleep called to him like a siren but he was no longer tempted to submit to its wiles: he knew now his sleep had been unnatural – and he knew its perpetrator. Grimly he strode over to Adric's bed, unsurprised to find its occupant missing. He slid his hand across the sheets, estimating that the bed had been abandoned at least ten minutes – more than enough time, he thought to himself. Mentally berating himself for his stupidity in entering a trance-state and thus leaving himself open to mental possession, the Doctor seized up his candle and strode through the parlour straight into the girls' room. Without preamble he shook Tegan's shoulder; she startled awake with a small cry.

"Tegan, get up."

"What -?" She shook her head blearily to clear it, her eyes frightened. "Doctor, what's wrong?"

The Doctor had been lighting candles. "Adric's disappeared. I can only assume he has been put into another trance." He thrust her clothes at her and she scrambled out of bed, tripping over to Nyssa who was already stirring at the sound of their voices. The Doctor continued, "We have to find him immediately. Before … well, before he gets hurt. Get dressed. We may already be too late."

Tegan stared at him. "And you're just going to stand there while we do a striptease, are you? You could at least leave the room."

But the Doctor was shaking his head, impatiently. "No, I don't think leaving you alone is a good idea. Hurry up please." To give himself something to do while his friends changed, adopting their usual clothes for convenience rather than the more fiddly Regency clothing, the Doctor went over to the window and, pulling back the heavy curtains, gazed out. His gaze sharpened; there, some miles off at the edge of the park a ghostly figure clad all in white was weaving in and out of the avenue of trees. Adric. Galvanised into action, he whirled round to find Tegan just fastening her blouse and Nyssa struggling into her boots. With a brusque come on, he led them from the room and down the corridor at a brisk trot.

"I'm afraid it's very clear now what is happening," the Doctor pronounced, ignoring Tegan's 'not to me.' "Our … opponent is wily, I'll give him that - the ultimate predator in fact. He's been toying with us, like a cat toys with a mouse." They had reached the front door which stood open to the dank night air.

A thin mist swirled and in the distance they could heard the wailing cry of a dog. Tegan shivered, drawing a little closer to the Doctor who was holding his lantern high, his gaze sweeping this way and that as he tried to catch another glimpse of their friend.

"I wish you'd stop playing the enigmatic Time Lord and tell us what's happening," she grouched.

They walked rapidly through the formal gardens, the marble statues seeming to follow them with their eyes, and arrived at the avenue of trees which had provided Tegan with many hours of exercise and enjoyment; in the daylight the avenue had seemed a sanctuary from the over starched, constricting protocols of the period but now, shrouded in the fog, every hollow and every shadow seemed to be full of crouching demons and ravening werewolves. A twig cracked and she whirled round to see a hare scurrying from the undergrowth.

Nyssa screamed in stark terror. The mist eddied and Tegan saw what had caused her friend such distress: Adric was lying prone on the park bench, struggling weakly, a dark figure bending over his chest.

Tanas raised his head, blood dripping from his mouth.

"Nooo," Adric protested, trying and failing to reach out to the Doctor. The Time Lord took a step towards his companion but Tanas held up a long finger, the nail as sharp as a blade.

"Come closer, my dear Doctor, and I'll rip out his throat." He laughed a harsh, infinitely cruel laugh and then glanced down at his abject victim. He stroked his hair, smiling some more as Adric cowered in disgust and fear from his vile touch, then oh so delicately he lapped at a rivulet of blood trickling down his chest; Tegan could hear the wet slurps as the vampire guzzled.

"Let him go," the Doctor ordered, his face stricken but his voice unwavering. "I will not let you hurt him further." He took a step closer, ignoring Tanas' snarl. "Dawn is breaking – the most dangerous time for a vampire. Look!" He pointed to the east where a golden pink glow was bathing the sky. Tanas' eyes flashed with hatred and then abruptly he rippled to his feet, Adric rolling out of his arms.

"We will meet again, Doctor!" he declared and with that he shifted into the shape of a wolf and loped off, back towards the house, just as the first rays of the sun touched the bench.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The Doctor rushed forward, easing Adric into a sitting position while supporting his shoulders. He pressed his fingers to his pulse, his frown increasing at how icy cold the youth's skin was. He was paper white too, almost transparent. Adric pushed his hands away and slumped forward, nursing his head.

"I'll be alright," he mumbled, "just dizzy."

"That's the shock. Up you come, my boy. We have to get you warmed up." He mustered a reassuring smile, wrapped his coat round his shoulders and hauled him to his feet. The youth wavered and then steadied; Nyssa slipped an arm round his waist and followed the Doctor's fast pace back towards the mansion.

"Wait, this is madness!" she suddenly exclaimed as they approached. "This is Tanas' house!"

"I am well aware of that – hold on, Adric – however, we have no choice. He won't bother us for a few hours. The TARDIS is too far away." The Doctor shouldered open the front door, crossed the hall in a matter of strides and began to climb the stairs two at a time. As they turned the corner to their suite of rooms, the lantern Tegan was carrying faltered. A strong draught of cold air whipped past them and then Sir Tanas was walking towards them. None of them had heard his approach. Frantically looking for some means of escape and keeping his friends behind him, the Doctor began to back away.

Tanas smiled. "Pray, do not distress yourself," he abjured urbanely, his glittering gaze fixed on Adric, "I rarely partake of … sustenance during the day." With that, and a mocking bow, he flowed down the corridor, his feet barely touching the floor.

"Go to the kitchen," the Doctor snapped to the two women, effectively breaking into their shock. "Nyssa I want you to make a tea to counteract the blood loss."

"Yes, Doctor."

"But – " Tegan began.

"Cat and mouse again," the Doctor told her impatiently as he led Adric through the parlour, "Tanas is toying with us. You'll be perfectly safe if you stay together."

Once he arrived at the bedroom, he kicked the door closed and pulled Adric over to the fireside. Before the Alzarian could think to protest he whipped the damp and blood-stained nightshirt over his head, replaced it with a clean one and wrapped a blanket round him, urging him to sit in one of the arm chairs. Adric huddled into the warmth, so miserably cold that he couldn't even shiver. The Doctor pressed his warm fingers against the frigid skin of his wrist, barely able to detect any sign of elevation in his pulse. The fact that the Alzarian, with his advanced genetic healing abilities, had not begun to heal disturbed him greatly. Folding the blanket back, he probed the chest injury: the two puncture wounds were deep, their edges ragged, and the whole area was bruised and tender. Thankfully, however, the bleeding had stopped.

Using a torn-up sheet and the garlic salve from yesterday, the Time Lord quickly cleaned and bandaged the wound, all the while talking to his friend in an effort to keep him conscious. By the time he had added more logs to the fire and given him a shot of brandy, Adric's cheeks were flushing with the first hint of colour and he was beginning to shiver.

"The shivering is a good sign," the Doctor said, resting a hand on his forehead. "Yes, your temperature's starting to normalise. Another few minutes and you'll be as right as nine pence."

Adric met the Doctor's gaze, his eyes desolate. "Am I … Am I like him now – a vampire?"

"Adric, think." A hint of fond exasperation had entered the Doctor's voice. "If every victim of a vampire bite became, in turn, a vampire, the world would be literally crawling with the things!"

"Are you sure?"

"Well of course I'm sure! All you are is a young man with anaemia."

"That monster … I knew … Somehow on some level I knew what he was doing." The Doctor perched next to him, offering him a listening silence. "Flashes of memory, haunting images. His smell. I hated him and yet I was drawn to him."

"That's the vampire's charm, I'm afraid."

The door flung open and Nyssa and Tegan came in, the former carrying a mug, the latter a ceramic hot water bottle, something she recognised from her grandfather's extensive collection of curios. She made to slip it under Adric's blankets but the youth slapped her hand away, completing the task himself.

"You've encountered a vampire before, haven't you - in E-space?" Nyssa asked the Doctor.

"Unfortunately," Adric muttered, taking a sip of the herbal concoction Tegan had brought him; his hands were trembling and it took all his concentration not to spill it. "And we only killed him with a conveniently placed ship of iron."

"Ah, but that was a Great Vampire," the Doctor explained brightly. "Let's thank our lucky stars that we're not faced with one of those again."

"How do you know we're not?"

"He's not twenty feet tall for a start, Adric. No, no, like the _Hydrax_ crew, Tanas is a common or garden, run-of-the mill vampire."

"And there was I worrying," Tegan muttered.

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry unduly," he enthused with a boyish grin. "A stake through the heart and all that."

"You are joking," Nyssa said incredulously.

The Doctor opened his mouth, about to launch into a lecture on the subject, but Tegan got in first. "No worries, Nyssa," she said. "The stake will work. I'm a real horror film buff. I've seen the films, read the books – "

"Bought the T shirt," the Doctor muttered.

"Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee, Hammer House. I've even read Anne Rice's _Chronicles of a Vampire_: seriously freaky. You can take it from me, the old stake in the heart is the business." She paused and then added just to show off, "The stake is traditionally made from hazelwood to imitate Christ's crown of thorns."

The Doctor humpfed and muttered a sulky, "Well, obviously."

Tegan was now thoroughly enjoying the rare opportunity to impart knowledge to her two know-it-all friends while, at the same time, trumping the Doctor. "In _Hammer's_ Dracula, the Count was killed by exposure to sunlight. Peter Cushing tears down the curtains, the sun streams in and Christopher Lee burns to a frazzle." She stopped, a sudden thought occurring to her. "Hey, hang on a minute, Tanas can't be a vampire!"

"Sucking my blood isn't enough for you?" Adric asked in disbelief. He had regained some colour although he was still shivering. He edged closer to the fire, holding his hands out to its warmth.

"What I mean is," Tegan continued, "Tanas walks in broad daylight. A vampire can't do that."

The Doctor was looking smug. "You're inconsistent, Tegan," he corrected her maddeningly. "In Stoker's original novel, Dracula took possession of the Carfax estate in daylight. The notion of vampires being troubled by sunlight was a later addition to the mythos."

"But Tanas ran away when the sun rose," Tegan objected stubbornly.

"Ah, that's different. Vampires can walk in daylight – although their powers are weaker – but they have to seek their coffins – "

"Earthboxes – "

"Coffins at dawn."

To head off a quarrel between the two, Nyssa asked, "Is there anything else we should know?"

Again Tegan got in first: "There are lots of charms or deterrents which are supposed to ward off the vampire. Like the herbs growing in the village gardens, and the bunches tied above the doors. Garlic is the most common ward. The good guys always carry cloves of garlic round their necks."

"Superstitious nonsense," Nyssa said primly. "We had similar superstitions on Traken. Most of the plants in the Grove were planted specifically for their warding powers - my father was continually battling with the Forsters about it."

"Other than that, vampires are traditionally deterred by holy objects."

Nyssa blinked, her eyes large. "Like sieves and colanders."

Tegan choked, strongly tempted to reply in the affirmative. "No, Nyssa, sanctified objects. Christian objects in this case like crucifixes, holy water and things."

Just then there was a ponderous knock at the door. Adric cringed. "Is it Tanas?" he asked, his voice cracking. Patting him absently on the shoulder, the Doctor shook his head.

"I doubt a vampire would observe the courtesy of knocking. Come in."

Carrying a silver tray, Abraham entered the bedroom. Bowing coolly to the two women, he deposited the tray on the table next to Adric, saying, "The master sends his compliments."

"I just bet he does," Tegan muttered, placing a protective arm round Adric's shoulder.

"After your disturbed night, he thought that you might prefer breakfast in your rooms." He lifted a lid to reveal scrambled eggs and kippers.

"Just a minute," Adric spluttered, "you know what Tanas is!"

"I am my master's confidant in all matters."

Intrigued rather than revolted, the Doctor asked, "Are you a vampire?"

"Not yet, sir, although Sir Tanas has promised me that honour soon. I am merely his humble servant."

Greatly daring, Tegan pulled back the high collar that the butler always wore to reveal the tell-tale puncture wounds.

"When you have finished your repast, Sir Tanas hopes that you will join him in the drawing room."

The Doctor raised an innocent eyebrow. "And if we refuse?"

"My master was most insistent." Abraham bowed and picked up his tray. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

True to his threat, the four companions had been compelled to spend the morning and early afternoon with Tanas. It seemed to amuse the vampire to toy with them, ordering a still dripping steak for luncheon and holding Adric's horrified gaze while he sucked it dry. When afternoon tea had arrived, the Doctor retaliated by acting as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in offering dainty cucumber sandwiches to a vampire. At about two, after Lady Wilhelmina had played for them (and Tegan had muttered that if Tanas wanted to torture her, he could have chosen no better torment than to force her to listen to yet another piano recital) their captor had finally dismissed them, claiming he had matters to attend to, apparently secure in his belief that his erstwhile guests could not escape.

They were presently outside, relieved to swap the stuffy confines of the manor house for fresh air and bird song.

Nyssa spoke up, her tone carefully neutral as if she were merely examining a scientific theory: "Can we try to kill him now?"

"Us and whose army?" Tegan muttered under her breath. "He might only be one of the Doctor's common or garden vamps, but he's got the strength of 20 men. He'd make mincemeat out of us."

"Actually he'd make vampires out of us," Adric snapped.

Tegan brightened, a sudden thought occurring to her. "The TARDIS! It's only a couple of hours away."

"I have no intention of running away and leaving that monster to wreak havoc," the Doctor asserted. "Besides he interests me." He suddenly looked up and seeing Tanas regarding them through an upstairs window, waved cheerfully to him.

"I didn't mean run away. I meant bring the TARDIS here. Get the servants to safety."

"And tell them what?" Adric asked sarcastically. "That their master is a blood-sucking vampire and that we want to evacuate them into a time ship?"

The Doctor was shaking his head. "It's impossible, Tegan. Haven't you noticed the change in the weather? There's going to be a thunderstorm."

"Good, it'll clear the air."

"You're not thinking, my girl. It's Tanas' thunder storm. I have no doubt he conjured it up just as he summoned the mist. In another hour's time, he will be as strong as he would be at night. We just don't have time to get back to the TARDIS."

"Then what do we do, Doctor?"

"We gather garlic and crucifixes, Nyssa, garlic and crucifixes," the Doctor replied with a cheeriness he did not feel.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The storm had closed in with a suddenness matched only by its ferocity. Rain lashed down from a sky that was an unsettling blood red. Every few minutes sheet lightening would arch across, illuminating for a moment the stark silhouettes of the statues in the garden. Thunder rumbled and pounded, so loud that it could literally be felt vibrating through the floor and ceiling. For three long hours the storm had raged overhead and still it showed no sign of ceasing or passing over.

The four companions, having vampire-proofed the rest of the house, had locked themselves in the Doctor's bedchamber and were preparing themselves for a siege. Tegan, who was smearing garlic paste on the window casing, paused in her labours at the long desolate cry of a wolf. "Children of the night," she declaimed in her best Bela Lugosi accent, "what sweet music they make!"

The Doctor, who was methodically sharpening stakes out of hazel wood, glanced over at her. The fire cast his form into dark shadow. "That's not funny, Tegan. And close the curtains when you've finished."

The Australian gave a shiver, rubbing her arms as a sudden chill seemed to whip through the room. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll keep the curtains open, Doctor. I'd like to see if something's going to come and get me."

"I don't see the point of this," Adric commented, smearing garlic paste under the door. "The parlour door's locked and bolted with a heavy wardrobe piled in front of it – not even a vampire could smash his way through."

The Doctor gave him a funny look. "Don't be so sure. Anyway he can walk through walls, Adric, remember? Even the tiniest crack must be sealed."

The youth's face blanched. "Oh yes, I remember."

Nyssa finished sprinkling holy water on the sheets and set the bottle on the bedside table, looking round in satisfaction: Bowls of garlic flowers had been placed on each bedside table while garlands festooned the headboards, the shelves and even the mantelpiece; posies of herbs wrapped with red thread like those in the village hung from the door and windows and everywhere had been smeared with garlic paste and holy water. Everyone was wearing a crucifix and the two altar crucifixes stood on the bedside tables.

"Now all we have to do is wait," she said.

The evening passed agonisingly slowly. The Doctor seemed sunk in his own abstraction and barely spoke, staring moodily into the fire's flames. The other three were nervous and jumpy, half-heartedly playing parlour games in an effort to take their minds off things, and starting at every creak. Outside the storm continued to rage, only adding to the gradually growing sense of foreboding – they all felt it, even Tegan, but Nyssa, whose Traken upbringing made her sensitive, felt it keenly.

Ten o'clock passed in miserable anticipation and then half past. "I can't help but feel we're missing something here," the Doctor abruptly announced, beginning to pace.

"Like what?" Nyssa asked.

"If I knew that I wouldn't be missing it! Do try to talk sense, dear girl!" Seeing the flash of hurt in his friend's candid eye, the Doctor granted her a brief smile. "Just instinct, and when you're old as I am you begin to pay attention to instinct. This is all … too easy. This … vampire-proofing."

"But garlic and holy objects are supposed to deter – "

"Yes, yes, Tegan, I know all that. And yet – "

Suddenly there was a scrabbling, flapping noise at the window. Tegan glanced over just as a bolt of lightening illuminated the room. She half fell out of her chair, clapping her hand over her mouth in an effort to keep from screaming: a very large bat was tapping determinedly at the window.

Before the others could think to react, the Doctor was striding over. He seized up a crucifix and ignoring Tegan's incoherent warning and the slashing rain, flung the window open. The bat made to flutter inside but the Doctor, timing his move perfectly, thrust the cross out. There was an unholy shriek as the cross made contact and the smell of burning putrid flesh, and then the bat was wheeling away.

As he closed the window, another arc of lightening throwing his face into sharp relief, the Doctor said, "It works."

The grandfather clock chimed eleven and then half past. The bedchamber was quiet except for the regular breathing of his three companions who had retired to bed and the odd crackle and hiss of the fire. Outside an ominous silence had descended, broken only by the occasional wail of a wolf.

Midnight came: the witching hour.

The Doctor had been sharpening more stakes by the fire but his movements had become slower and slower, until the stake had slipped from his fingers, his chin sagging forward onto his chest.

Immediately he snapped himself awake, staggering to his feet and slapping his face in an effort to counteract the vampire-induced sleep. He strode over to his friends, his worst expectation fulfilled when he saw that they too were in a profoundly deep sleep, their breathing barely perceptible. Perching on the bed, he heaved Nyssa into a sitting position and shook her, gently slapping her cheeks in an effort to rouse her: the young Traken did not respond.

He was about to reach for the cold water on the washstand when, from beneath the double barricaded door, came the soft clicking of claws followed by the sound of a large animal sniffing. Laying Nyssa back down, the Time Lord readied the stake in one hand, a crucifix in the other, and crossed to take a protective stance in front of the door. A soft low growl could be heard and then nothing. Not even the monster's breathing.

Just when the Doctor was beginning to think that their unwelcome visitor had been deterred by the garlic, all the candles snuffed out and, in the flickering light of the fire which seemed to cast blood red shadows, tiny motes of dust danced like glitter.

Evil was coming.

The Doctor raised his head, a prickling sensation racing down his spine as he felt someone – something – looming up behind him, cold breath brushing against his neck; he whirled round, the stake held high but there was nothing there. Berating himself for allowing darkness and shadows to play tricks on him, the Doctor relaxed, turning back to the door.

Where Tanas was waiting for him.

Mustering his courage, the Doctor held the crucifix out towards the vampire, a Latin prayer of invocation falling from his lips.

"You curse me in the name of a god you do not believe in Doctor," Tanas purred, stepping closer to meet the Time Lord. "Did you truly believe you could protect yourself from me? And with these mere baubles?" Sensuously, he wrapped his hand round the cross, shivering with pleasure as it smoked and sparked. Then, he tugged it from the other's nerveless hand and drew it to his lips, slithering his snakelike tongue over it.

Tearing his eyes away from the loathsome sight, the Doctor steadied his voice and asked, "I take it you have no fear of the divine?" He sat down in his recently vacated chair, partly to imply a casualness that he did not feel and partly to shift Tanas' attention away from his three sleeping companions. Tanas flowed over to sit opposite him and the Time Lord fought a shiver of disgust as the monster deliberately brushed his neck on the way past.

"I fell from grace many centuries ago and I do not fear the wrath of an impotent deity. Nor am I bound by the ways of this backward little world."

The Doctor slapped the side of his head with his hand. "Of course. You're not merely a common vampire; you're a Great Vampire - a time traveller. Which is why the Christian artefacts and traditional deterrents have no effect on you."

Tanas' smile grew ever more triumphant. In the wink of an eye he had picked up a garland of garlic flowers from the other side of the room and was inhaling the strong bitter smell. "Over the centuries I have built up immunity to 'traditional deterrents,' my friend. They … disturb me - but pain can be pleasure."

"The day of the shoot. The garlic salve burned you – Adric told me."

Tanas' glittering gaze flicked to the sleeping Alzarian. "My compliments to him."

In an effort to divert the vampire's predatory attentions away from the Alzarian, the Doctor asked, "Tell me, how did you arrive on Earth? I know something of the Great Vampire War."

"Ah," Tanas hissed, "the pleasure of the hunt. It was a Time Lord who first introduced the scourge of the vampire upon the universe – did you know that, my friend? I see that you did not. We rampaged through the cosmos, wreaking havoc where we would, sucking dry whole star systems. Eventually, when their own stability was jeopardised the great race of Time Lords deigned to intervene. Thus began the Great Vampire Wars."

The Doctor raised an innocent eyebrow. "I always thought we destroyed all of you. Well, apart from the so-called Greatest of Them All who fled into E-space. I'm afraid he's dead too, old chap."

Tanas grabbed the Doctor, whipping him effortlessly from his seat until his feet dangled a clear two feet off the floor. "He was my sire, Time Lord!" He yanked the Doctor's head back, exposing his throat, his canine teeth extending. "I feel your life blood surging, your body responding. One bite and you would be mine."

Despite every resolution not to the Doctor closed his eyes against the inevitable, any second now expecting the sharp pin-prick of pierced flesh. Then, abruptly with a growl of rage, Tanas released him and he sprawled to the floor.

The vampire assumed his own seat as if nothing had happened and continued his narrative. "I had captured a TARDIS and its Time Lord master. It amused me to use him, seeing the savage pain in his eyes as he was compelled to fulfil my every desire. My every desire, my dear Doctor. I arrived on Earth in the 14th century."

"Arrived on Earth or were stranded?" he asked pleasantly. "Your race is a race of giants – literally. The Great Vampire Adr… er I encountered in E-space was twenty feet tall. Excuse the indelicacy but aren't you rather short?" He gave his most innocent smile. "Human blood giving you a dicky tummy?"

Tanas' eyes flashed fire. "I was beginning to tire of the hunt but you may yet be a worthy opponent. My Time Lord slave managed to wrest control of his TARDIS back from me and we crash landed on Earth. Humans contain little goodness and I have been compelled to be careful in order to ensure my safety. But that reticence is at an end – thanks to you and your sweet boy."

"Leave Adric out of this!"

"He is bound to me. His blood surges with life and vigour. After just a week of feeding off him, I am stronger than I have been in centuries. He obeys my every word."

Despite the danger, the Doctor snorted, amused by the notion of the headstrong Alzarian obeying anyone. "Try getting him to tidy his room and see how much he obeys you."

Tanas skimmed his pale death-cold fingers across the Doctor's cheek. "Blood of my blood," he whispered seductively, "flesh of my flesh. He is mine, heart, soul – and body."

Summoning all of his will, the Doctor wrenched Tanas' hand away. "I do not fear you or your tricks, Tanas."

"Not so." He laughed, the sound like bones in a charnel house. "You fear for those you profess to love. You fear you do not possess the strength enough to protect them. You fear what I will do to them. Come."

Every instinct, every shred of what made him who he was, screamed at him to resist, but against the merciless will of a Great Vampire, there was no defiance; the Doctor found himself walking over to the bed where Tegan and Nyssa slept.

Compelled, unable to tear his gaze away, he could only moan in deep distress as Tanas oh so casually whipped away the covers and touched Tegan's shoulder, obliging her to roll onto her back. His hungry eyes roved over her body and then he reached out long skeletal fingers and traced the curve of her lips, down her throat to the soft swell of her breast. Casting a cruel glance at the Doctor, who uttered a moan of denial, he unlaced her nightdress, exposing her. He skated his fingers over her naked breasts, purring deep in his throat in satisfaction and triumph as the sleeping woman responded to his vile touch.

"Fire and ice," he crooned. He lowered his head, fangs extending; keeping his gaze fixed on the Doctor's stricken face, he pierced her flesh, just above her heart, lapping at the tiny rivulet of blood. Then he shoved her away. "Human blood is so listless, so tasteless."

In the flicker of an eye, he launched himself in the air and flew across the bed to hover momentarily over Nyssa. As if aware of his presence the Traken whimpered, her gentle features contorting in pain.

"Purity," the vampire murmured as he descended. "Sweetness and light." Nyssa rolled obediently onto her back, the column of her throat flushed and welcoming. Ice cold hands caressed her neck and breasts, stealing her warmth, her essence. Tanas lowered his head with a hiss of pleasure, his eyes drooping closed. The Doctor, still unable to move himself, caught a flash of movement to his left: his eyes widened.

"Get off her, you bastard!" Adric screamed and launched himself at the vampire. Released from the spell, the Doctor seized up a stake. Under the double onslaught, Tanas staggered back momentarily and then he gave a growl and leapt over both men's heads as graceful as a cat. He caught Adric's arm, applied only the minutest of pressure and the youth screamed. The Doctor reached for his friend but Tanas had reapplied his spell and, agonised though he was at his friend's plight and pain, he found he could not move a muscle.

Licking a broad swathe across the Alzarian's throat, Tanas bit gently into the sensitive flesh of his ear lobe, his gaze once again spearing the Doctor's.

"It is not for them you fear, is it? It is for this one. Innocence and impudence, loyalty and gullibility. Vitality and youth. An intoxicating liquor of contradictions."

"Don't you dare touch him!" the Doctor cried, struggling against the invisible constraints, seeing blood stream down Adric's neck from his ear.

"Oh, I plan to do far more than just touch, my dear Doctor." Tanas wrapped his long arms around Adric, guiding the terrified youth to stand between him and the Doctor. "And he wants my touch. See how he quickens? How he trembles?"

Mustering everything he had, the Doctor spat back, "That's the vampire's fascination, nothing more." He tore his eyes away from Tanas and sought Adric's stricken gaze. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," he told him urgently.

Tanas chuckled. "Is he not beautiful?" he mused almost to himself as he carded his fingers through Adric's dark curls, leaning in closer to breathe in his scent. His cruel nails tore the nightshirt away from the youth's chest and Adric shivered, half in cold, half in arousal as the chilly air touched his skin.

"So smooth and uncorrupted," Tanas continued, gliding his hands over Adric's naked chest, exploring and caressing though his eyes never left the Doctor. "Except for here." He skated his finger over the weeping cut on the youth's chest and, with a mocking smile, flicked his nail against it making it bleed afresh. The Doctor surged forward, but was hauled back by the mental restraint as Adric gagged with pain, the front of his nightshirt soaking quickly with new blood.

Tanas made an extravagant show of dabbling his fingers in the pool and sucking each dripping digit into his mouth, eyes rolling with pleasure. "Mine," he crooned, "my dark prince."

The words kindled something deep inside Adric. "Never!" he spat and, grabbing hold of a nearby stake, he drove it at Tanas' chest.

The vampire caught his hand easily, forcing Adric to his knees. With his free hand, he slashed away the material of his own shirt, cutting deep into the flesh.

"Strike," he ordered him with an evil smile. The stake sagged in Adric's hand and he licked his lips almost unconsciously, his gaze fixed on the welling line of crimson.

Tanas threw back his head and laughed, mocking him, mocking his willpower. "Then drink," he ordered. The youth shook his head, raising a hand to cover his own mouth; Tanas slapped it away. "Drink," he said again, and in the wink of an eye he had knelt next to the youth and was forcing his head to the seeping gash. Adric struggled, retching in misery but Tanas held him without effort. This close Adric could smell the metallic blood and something else: the intoxicating smell of vampire. That and the lack of oxygen sent his head spinning. He opened his mouth to cry out in fear and denial, and just the tiniest drop of blood seeped onto his lips.

With a cry, half growl of need, half broken sob, he guzzled deeply, aware of nothing but the warm liquid gushing down his throat, warming him, enriching him.

"Blood of my blood," Tanas whispered in triumph. He raised Adric's wrist to his own lips, biting savagely into the flesh and sucking heartily, all the while cradling Adric's head to his breast.

The rage that had been building in the Doctor broke forth at last. Grabbing up a jewel-encrusted crucifix, he swung the object full force against Tanas' head, uncaring of the sharp pain as a ruby pierced the heel of his hand. Intent on his feast, the vampire was knocked sideways, Adric rolling from him to lie in an unconscious stupor. The Doctor slammed into him again with the blood splattered crucifix. Tanas shrieked like a scalded cat as his flesh instantly fizzled and blackened.

Re-energised, the Doctor drove him backwards until he fetched up against the window. With a screech of fury, Tanas launched himself out of the window, black wings bearing him away.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Weaving slightly, the Doctor stared out of the window, unable to comprehend the enormity of what had happened – victory snatched literally from the jaws of defeat. Then, dismissing the matter, he turned to his friends. Carrying Adric to the bed, he fumbled for his pulse, his concern mounting at how sluggish it was. The youth's skin was waxen, as bleached of colour as any corpse's. Pulling blankets over him in an effort to warm him, the Doctor pressed his hand over the still bleeding gash on his wrist and cast a look over at the two women.

"Nyssa!" he shouted urgently, "Tegan! Wake up! I need you." Swearing under his breath, he grabbed the phial of holy water with his free hand, unstoppered it with his teeth and chucked the contents over Nyssa's face. The Traken jerked awake, another cry escaping her when she noticed her state of undress and the blood on her nightdress.

The Doctor caught her attention. "Later, Nyssa," he ordered curtly.

"But – " Her voice was escalating towards hysteria and she drew her knees up to her chest.

"Adric is dying!" the Doctor cut through harshly. "You can fall apart later! Rouse Tegan. And light more candles."

It took only a few minutes for the two women to scramble over to their friend's bedside, both pale and trembling but alert. Sparing them both a smile full of warmth and pride, the Doctor said, "We had a nocturnal visit from Sir Tanas, in case you didn't guess."

"Alright," Tegan said, forcing her voice to stay steady. "What do we do?"

"Tanas took too much blood this time. He almost bled Adric dry. Another few minutes and well… Let's just say he's lucky to be alive. I'm going to transfuse him."

Tegan, however, had tensed at a tell-tale smear of blood on Adric's lips. "Are you mad?" she hissed. "That blood on his lips – he drank Tanas' blood, didn't he? Didn't he!?"

"I am well aware of what that monster did to him."

"If Adric drinks blood now, he'll turn into a vampire! Same goes for a transfusion – it's still blood."

"He's already hypovolemic. Without a blood transfusion he'll DIE!"

Eyes filling with tears, Tegan staggered back. "Then it's too late. He's already dead. Oh, God, he's already – "

The Doctor grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. Once. Twice. "Enough!"

Nyssa's eyes had widened in horror. "Doctor, is it true?"

"He is, if you will, a vampire-in-waiting. If he is drained of blood to the point of death – or indeed if he dies in any other way – he will cross over and become one of the Undead. It will be a permanent transition. If we can give him a transfusion, keep him from death, he will … begin to turn … but it will not be an irreversible condition."

"Then it's worth it," Nyssa stated.

Accepting Tegan's slightly reluctant nod, the Doctor began rifling through the pockets of his fawn coat until he unearthed a first aid kit which contained a Victorian-style syringe.

"Look at the size of that thing!" Tegan swore. "Talk about old-fashioned.

"Never mind that," the Doctor said. He had lifted Adric legs to increase the flow of blood to his vital organs and was checking his pulse. It was weak and thready, and getting weaker. "Will you bring me some boiling water from the kitchen please?"

"And Tanas?"

"Something scared him away –use the servants' stairs and you should be alright. Hurry!"

While the two women were gone, the Doctor swiftly bandaged the savagely torn flesh of Adric's wrist and chest. The Alzarian moaned on the verge of consciousness and the Doctor raised his head while he moistened his lips with scotch.

"Adric, come on! Fight!" he entreated. The youth's eyes fluttered open. He stared up at the Time Lord in relief which quickly turned to disgust and shame when he remembered what had happened. With a low cry he tried to roll away, but the Doctor held him still. Cradling his head in his hands, he compelled eye contact as he said urgently, almost savagely, "Don't you DARE turn away from me. I repeat: you have nothing to feel ashamed about."

"He … made me … Oh, God!"

Before the Doctor could respond, the women returned, Nyssa carrying a small kettle of boiling water. Working swiftly she placed the syringe in a basin and covered it with the boiling water.

Tegan, meanwhile, came over and perched on the bed next to Adric, surprised and hurt when the youth flinched from her touch. The Doctor caught her eye, saying quietly, "What Tanas did to you, he did to Adric – and more."

Adric's eyes had shuttered closed; he was slipping back into unconsciousness. Feeling his pulse again, and frowning morbidly, the Doctor said, "Nyssa, what blood type are you?"

"O positive."

"No good. Adric's AB negative. Tegan, what are you?"

Her face fell. "I'm A negative. That's no use, is it?"

But the Doctor was beaming. "It's absolutely splendid, Tegan. Sit."

It was then that Tegan truly saw the size of the syringe; she didn't like needles at the best of times, but the thin, wiry needles she was used to were nothing compared with the Victorian monster before her. Steeling her resolve and carefully looking anywhere but at the syringe, she sat down in the chair as indicated. As he dabbed her arm with the scotch, the Doctor gave her a brief too-bright smile.

"I'm afraid this will sting, Tegan. And it'll leave some mighty fine bruising. Deep breaths." He found the vein straight away, unlike some of the nurses when she had donated blood who poked about the place for ages; nevertheless it was still uncomfortable.

Nyssa was still looking worried. "Won't his Alzarian physiology react against human DNA? He could go into anaphylactic shock."

"Alzarians are very resilient."

"But, Doctor – "

"Cyna Rol of the As'Rah Institute has experimented with interspecies transfusions. Her results have been encouraging." He spared her a look. "Besides, we don't have a choice." So saying, he introduced the full syringe into Adric's arm; the youth hardly stirred despite the Time Lord's trouble in finding a likely vein.

While Nyssa held a swab in place to staunch any bleeding, the Doctor turned back to Tegan who eyed the needle with growing trepidation.

"Exactly how much blood are you thinking of taking?" she asked, the words turning into a groan as he dug into another vein.

"Two pints. If Adric's healing capabilities are going to kick in and save him, that amount should be sufficient."

"Great. He'd better appreciate this."

"Deep breaths and try not to tense. There's a girl."

It was easy for him to say, Tegan thought. The next few minutes were exceedingly painful for her and by the sixth injection, both arms were blooming with ugly black bruises and were so painful that she did not dare bend them. The Doctor removed the last needle and swung back to Adric. As he inserted it, he noticed that the nasty bruised marks from previous applications had disappeared. Exchanging a look with Nyssa, he unwound the bandage from the boy's wrist to find unblemished skin.

"It's started," Nyssa whispered softly.

"Yes, well at least he's stabilised," the Doctor replied, staring down at his young friend.

There was a low groan and Adric's eyelids were fluttering. "Doctor?"

"Indeed I am!" the Doctor enthused with a heartiness he did not feel. "How are you feeling?"

"Just a little shaky. But what's that awful acrid smell?"

"Garlic," the Doctor replied, dropping eye contact.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Tegan whispered, applying another cold compress to her bruised arms. "It's still the middle of the night, Tanas could be out there."

"Probably not," the Doctor replied brightly.

With another emergency over, the three younger companions had dozed off for a few hours, too exhausted emotionally and physically to even question the Doctor's assurance that Tanas would not return. Letting Adric sleep on undisturbed, the Doctor had roused the two women a few minutes ago.

"I'm going to get the TARDIS. The old girl's medical computers might be able to suggest a drug regimen to counteract Adric's vampiric infection. And anyway I want to get the servants evacuated."

"And Tanas, Doctor?" Nyssa asked. "How do you propose to kill him? You said only a bolt of iron proved effective against a Great Vampire."

"One emergency at a time, Nyssa."

And seizing up his torch and a crucifix, he was gone. He strode down the corridor and through the gallery. Although the rest of the room was wreathed in shadow, a shaft of quivering moonlight illuminated the vast portrait of Tanas and, as he descended the stairs, the Doctor had the uncomfortable feeling that the stony eyes were watching him. There was a strong metallic smell on the air that intensified as he gained the hall, but in his focused state the Time Lord barely registered it. He lit a gas lamp to provide extra light and pulled open the heavy front door.

A shaggy shape launched itself at him the moment his foot passed the threshold and he staggered back in shock, tripping over the door mat. Five huge wolves with red-tinged eyes and slavering jaws ringed the doorway. Scrambling to his feet, the Doctor assayed a step over the threshold and the alpha wolf immediately dove forward; he danced back.

"I take it you are Tanas' wolves," he said to them a trifle breathlessly. "Yes, of course you are."

Heaving the door closed, and double locking it, he dashed across the hall and down the kitchen stairs. Mrs Dumphry the cook was bending over the table but the Doctor barely acknowledged her. He flung open the back door, hardly surprised to find himself confronted by more wolves.

"Ah, there you are. Splendid." With a cheery wave, he slammed the door closed and bolted it. "That should keep the wolf from the door," he said, turning to Mrs Dumphry with a grin.

At first everything seemed normal enough, and then he noticed that the cavernous fire which should have been attended to all night had gone out, the early morning loaves of bread which should have been in the oven by now were still lumps of rising dough in a bowl, and that Mrs Dumphry the cook was not leaning over the kitchen table but sprawled over it, her legs twisted grotesquely. Her face looked like it belonged to a wax work dummy.

The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment, seeking inner resolve, and then he went over to the woman, and redundant though he knew it was, checked her pulse. From the onset of rigor mortis, he estimated she had been dead at least three hours. Settling the lifeless form on the floor and gently closing the mad staring eyes, he turned to a second figure, that of Mrs Smith, the housekeeper, who was sitting in the rocking chair by the fire, her head lolling forward. She too was as cold as the grave and, as he tilted her head back, he saw that her throat had been ripped out.

With the crucifix held in front of him like a shield, he re-mounted the stairs.

Everyone was dead. The under-footman was sprawled like a rag doll by the dining room door; Rebecca the cook hand lay in an untidy heap half way across the main hall (only a few metres from where the Doctor himself had walked a few minutes ago) and, finally, to complete the massacre, the elegant figure of the village doctor, who had apparently been summoned to the house, sat slumped in the drawing room, the fingers of his hands gripping the arm rests of his chair in terror. It was very clear what had happened: after his precipitate departure from the companions' bed chamber, Tanas had sated his hunger by feasting on his hapless staff.

For a few moments the Doctor just stood there staring down at Rebecca's broken body and then, with a heavy sigh, he returned to the kitchen in order to ensure that the dead did not rise again. It was a disgusting task, close to butchery, but the Doctor was committed: he would not risk more vampires stalking the quiet village or attacking his friends. He had just finished downstairs and was about to see to the under footman, when he heard a cry from the gallery above.

"Tegan! Miss Tegan, miss!"

His head snapped up and he saw Abigail stumbling along the gallery, so white as to appear like a ghostly apparition. Shooting up the stairs two at a time, he still wasn't quick enough to prevent Tegan from coming out of their guest apartment.

"Tegan," he shouted to her urgently, "get back. It's not Abigail!"

But his warning fell on deaf ears as Tegan took in the state of her friend, from the ashen skin to the torn and blood-stained bodice. "Abi!"

"Oh Miss Tegan, it was awful. He killed them, he killed them all!" Abigail fell to her knees, holding her arms up like a child wanting its mother; Tegan caught the girl's hand, immediately gasping in shock and sudden fear as she felt just how icy, how grave-cold, the skin was. She stumbled back, only half aware of the Doctor coming up beside her.

Abigail coiled to her feet, leaning back not incidentally against the large portrait of her master; she smiled triumphantly and ran her hands voluptuously down the sodden front of her bodice. Tegan could now see the wanton light in the maid's once demure gaze and the swollen redness of her lips.

"Here," Abigail whispered in a tone of voice that had never been heard from her lips before, "he suckled me here," and she rested her hand over the swell of her breast, half revealed through a tear in the dress.

"Abigail, no," Tegan stammered, unable to comprehend.

The monster that had once been the timid maid chuckled. "He said I could have you. As a gift. Come to me, Miss Tegan."

Tegan's eyes drooped and she took a step towards the abomination. Sharp teeth extended and Abigail bent her head to Tegan's willingly bared throat…

And shrieked as the Doctor flung the crucifix in her face. She cowered away, the flesh of her face hissing and burning, giving off an acrid smell of death. The Doctor stood over her, his eyes hard, his voice steady.

"You will not touch her again," he said quite calmly.

The vampire rippled back to her feet. "Why?" she purred. "Do you want her?"

"Did you kill these people? Or was it Tanas?" the Time Lord asked. "You will answer me."

"The master drank them. He'll need his strength for tonight." Abigail suddenly turned her glittering eyes to Adric who had emerged from the guest suite with Nyssa and was watching the exchange with fascinated horror. She smiled, baring perfect white fangs. "Hail, brother."

She made to reach out to the Alzarian but the Doctor slammed her against the wall, keeping her covered with the crucifix. She hissed and snarled, lashing out with her arms, claw-like nails scratching for his face.

Mustering his nerve, the Doctor pulled out his stake and plunged it under her ribs and into her heart. The monstrosity shrieked and squirmed and then, blessedly, the death throes ceased and a look of peace transfigured the contorted features, and Abigail the maid slipped gently down the wall.

There was quiet in the hall except for the panting breath of the companions and then Tegan gave a moan of denial and fell to her knees, retching painfully. Adric rested a hand on her shoulder, his eyes fixed on the dead thing that had once been a human being.

"Doctor?" he said, his voice cracking with the strain, "is that … is that what I am?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

While the Doctor had remained behind, returning to his grisly task of ensuring the dead did not rise again, the other three weary travellers had retired to their guest suite. Adric had run into his bedchamber, slamming the door behind him but the two women had settled by the fire in the parlour, glad of its cheery warmth.

Nyssa took both Tegan's hands in her own, squeezing them gently. "Tegan? I truly am sorry about Abigail."

"She was a below-stairs maid. No better than an insect to you."

Nyssa's cheeks coloured faintly. "I think you misunderstand my beliefs. Socially Abigail was my inferior, but as a human being she was in every respect my equal. All life is sacred to the Keeper, and I would be sullying his memory if I did not strive to uphold those principles."

They both looked up as the door creaked open to permit the Doctor.

"You really should get that door oiled!" Tegan snapped, easing away from Nyssa slightly to glare at the Time Lord. "Where have you been anyway?"

"I was seeing to the … remains," he replied evasively. "I'm afraid we can't get to the TARDIS. The house is surrounded by Tanas' wolves."

"Are all the servants dead?" Nyssa asked.

"Abraham and Wilhelmina are missing. The others are … well, yes. When Tanas left here as a bat, he must have sated his hunger on the servants." He paused. "Where's Adric?"

"He's changing," Tegan said, giving him a defiant look through her tears.

Nyssa rose to her feet. "I think I will go and check on him. Excuse me."

Once their friend had gone, the Doctor fiddled with the hammer and nails on the mantelpiece that had been left over from their vampire-proofing activities, searching for something profound to say and finding nothing except an answering pain in his own hearts. He had seen thousands of innocents killed over the centuries but it never got any easier.

"How are you feeling?" he asked at length.

"Great. The servants are dead, Abigail is dead, Adric's growing pointy teeth as we speak, and here we are trapped inside Hammer's House of Horror by a pack of ravening wolves." She sniffed and added, "Got a hanky?"

"Oh, of course." Producing the required article the Doctor watched his friend turn away in order to dab self-consciously at her eyes, smudging her mascara.

"You killed her," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the streaks of black on the hanky.

"No, Tegan," he said sadly. "I killed the abomination that had taken over her body. Abigail was already dead."

"You gave Adric a chance. Why not her?"

"She bled to death. And in so doing, she crossed over. Permanently. I'm sorry, Tegan."

More silence followed, broken only when Nyssa returned to the room, a stake held absently in one of her hands. Although her two friends were too preoccupied to notice, her movements were harried, almost frenzied. "Excuse me," she said to the Doctor, trying to get past him to the mantelpiece.

"Pardon? Oh, yes of course."

Nyssa gave him a frantic smile, picked up the hammer, and fled back to the bedchamber, slamming the door closed.

Tegan sniffed, more tears welling, but she was too proud to cry. "She was going to get married to the stable boy next year," she whispered softly.

"Yes, I know," the Doctor said vaguely. He was staring abstractedly at the bedchamber door, a dawning horror beginning to form. "What does Nyssa want with – . Adric!"

Before Tegan could think to ask what on Earth was wrong this time, he was racing across the room.

When Nyssa went into the bed chamber after leaving Tegan and the Doctor to their chat, she found Adric staring out of the window at the shadowy garden. In the east a faint tinge of pink could be seen, but sunrise was still almost an hour off. The youth had changed back into his Alzarian costume, now cleaned of blood but with the slash marks still clearly evident.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he whispered.

"Are you alright??" Nyssa made to feel his forehead but he avoided her touch.

"Nyssa, I've got something to ask you."

"Of course."

"You won't like it." He turned big sad eyes on her and she remembered the last time he had used that phrase: on Traken.

"Alright."

"But first, where's the Doctor?"

"In the parlour with Tegan."

For a moment, desolate anguish fell through the youth's eyes as he said so quietly that Nyssa hardly heard him, "I won't get a chance to thank him."

"Adric?" Something in her friend's behaviour was setting off alarm bells. "Are you alright? Do you want me to call him?"

"No!" Grabbing her hand, he squeezed it hard until she cried out both at the force and the cold. He let it drop. "I'm sorry, Nyssa. I … Let's sit down."

They moved over to the couch but Adric did not speak for many minutes; Nyssa waited.

"I'm a monster, Nyssa."

"No, don't say that!"

"It's true: in a few hours, I'll become like Abigail. Like Him. It's already begun." He raised his head, suddenly determined, adamant. "And I won't allow that to happen. I won't hurt you or the Doctor or Tegan. I care about you too much for that."

Gently Nyssa took his cold hand in her warm one. "The Doctor will find a way – he always does."

Adric gave a snort, his usually cheerful face contorting with bitterness. "I can hear your pulse, Nyssa. I can smell your blood." When she recoiled in horror, he pressed home his advantage. "I–won't-hurt-my-friends."

Nyssa could only shake her head in denial. "Adric – "

"That's the point: I'm not Adric anymore. Adric is already dead. Time is running out. I want – I need – you to kill me."

Nyssa leapt to her feet, her hand going to cover her mouth. Adric stood with her, his eyes blazing crimson. "Remember what happened to your father? How a gentle, kind man became a twisted, evil monster? Do you want that to happen to me? Do you!"

Seeing her own grief and anguish reflected in his eyes, she could only shake her head in denial. "What must I do?"

"Get the hammer from the other room. You'll need it to break through the ribs."

Almost in a daze, her heart thumping with dull resignation, she slipped next door, collected the hammer from the mantelpiece and returned. Adric was staring out of the window again. At her hesitant approach, he nodded towards the pre-dawn sky. "I never thought I'd see any other planet's dawn, except my own. I wish you'd seen Alzarius' dawn, Nyssa. Gold, bronze, azure blue."

"I don't think I can do this."

But Adric was shaking his head, resolute in his belief. "You must."

The two friends regarded each other for time uncounted and then Adric gave Nyssa a hug, kissing her cheek. "Tell Tegan - she will get back to Heathrow," he said, as he lay on his back. "And tell the Doctor –tell him I'm sorry."

It was down to Nyssa now. She summoned up an image of her father: his dear sweet kindly face. The way he used to tickle her with his beard when she was small, the fire of curiosity in his eyes at a new scientific discovery, and the unfailing love for her. Then she saw the face change, transfigure into a manifestation of evil. Holding the stake steady over Adric's heart, Nyssa raised the hammer.

"No!" the Doctor roared and knocked the hammer out of Nyssa's hand with enough force for it to splinter the wood of the table when it landed. "That is not the answer."

Caught between shame and resolve, Nyssa covered her face. "I only wanted to help. I don't want to see him change, not like Father."

So saying, she fled from the room. Barely noticing, the Doctor whirled on Adric, his eyes blazing with a towering fury.

"Have you any idea how stupid and cowardly that display was?"

"I won't hurt you! I'd rather die than let that happen!"

"Good choice of phrase. That is exactly what would have happened. You young fool, did you really think Nyssa could smash a wooden stake through your ribcage into your heart before the vampire within you was unleashed? Your sorry attempt at suicide would have killed you, Nyssa, and probably me and Tegan too."

Adric stared at the Doctor, shame and determination warring in his expressive eyes. Then, abruptly, he rolled off the bed and went over to the washstand, splashing some water into the basin. Seizing up the nailbrush, he began scrubbing at his hands frantically until they were scarlet. The Doctor leaned against the wall next to the washstand, as if nothing untoward had happened and said quite calmly, "Did I ever tell you why I never took you back to the Starliner when I had the chance?"

The shift in conversation was enough to make Adric pause in his scrubbing; then he began again, attacking his arms.

"Because I saw this hurting boy from a deprived, delinquent background," here the Doctor permitted himself the ghost of a smile, "and I saw his strength and love of life. Strength to leave the stagnant confines of the Starliner, to resist the Master's web – and to defy a Great Vampire for almost a week."

There was quiet for a few minutes, broken only by Adric's scrubbing which if anything had become even more frenzied. And then the Doctor plucked the nailbrush from his fingers and said very gently, "That didn't work for Pontius Pilate. It won't work for you."

"I-can't-get-clean. Blood everywhere. I can smell it. Taste it. When Abigail had hold of Tegan, I could feel Tegan's heart racing. I could smell her fear – almost taste it. And I wanted her. God, Doctor, what he made me do!"

"Adric, I repeat, you have nothing to be ashamed of. It's the vampire's charm to cause arousal and bloodlust. Just because your body responded, it doesn't mean you wanted it." Snagging up a towel, the Doctor led him to a chair.

"Listen, the vampiric influence will take a few hours to take hold. If you can abstain from feeding and if we can manage to kill Tanas in the next 24 hours, there's a chance."

"As much as that?" He cranked up a smile but his eyes still danced with demons. "Doctor, promise me something?"

"Anything," the other replied without hesitation.

"If I begin to turn, promise you'll end it."

"I promise." Awkwardly the Doctor reached for his friend, but Adric evaded him, avoiding his confused gaze.

"I can smell your blood," he said simply.

Nodding his understanding, the Doctor rose to his feet. "Come on then," he said, summoning up a heartiness he did not feel, "let's go and hunt ourselves a vampire."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Doctor, will you please explain what we are doing?" Nyssa asked with just the faintest tinge of impatience in her voice. The four of them, dressed in their habitual attire, were currently hurrying down the corridor towards the gallery, their eyes darting into every shadowy alcove.

"Hunting," he replied with a broad grin. "All vampires – Great Vampires included - have to seek their coffins at sunrise. It's half past five. I estimate sunrise is half an hour away. If we can track Tanas down to his lair, we can kill him in his sleep."

"With a stake?" Nyssa asked in profound disbelief. "It didn't work very well last night from what you have told us."

"He'll be at our mercy. Think of sunrise as a transitional time: the transition between night and day. He will not be able to move from his coffin for those few precious minutes."

Tegan was watching Adric; he was dressed in his usual Alzarian costume but she felt like she was watching a stranger. Even his walk had changed: he glided where once he had waddled. She found she mourned for the real Adric, for the boy who had driven her mad with his sexist comments, who tripped over his own feet, whose smile could light up the Console Room and whose loyalty she admired more than anything.

"There is something that still confuses me," Nyssa said, breaking Tegan's reverie. "Why did Tanas kill the servants – and why so openly?"

"I've been wondering that myself," the Doctor remarked.

"Revenge," Tegan suggested. "He wanted to shock and disgust us. I'd say he certainly succeeded." She thought of Abigail and the monster that she had become.

Nyssa was shaking her head. "His recent actions do not fit his earlier pattern. Tanas has survived all these centuries on his cunning and wit, being very careful not to arouse suspicions. He feeds every night but is careful not to predate too many locals."

"So if he doesn't snack on the villagers and doesn't have a stupid Alzarian to hand, where does he go?" Adric asked a trifle resentfully.

The Doctor's frown deepened but he forbore from commenting. "London, I assume. It's less than an hour away as the bat flies. Away from the main thoroughfares and high society, it is a den of inequity and vice. He haunts the alleys and shadows, picking off unwary travellers. Nice and swift. No witnesses."

"And then all of a sudden, he casts caution to the wind and goes on a killing spree? It doesn't make sense," Nyssa said, frowning in confusion at someone not following the precepts of science.

Tegan remembered something. "Abigail said he needed his strength for tonight." Her eyes widened in dawning horror. "The ball?"

Adric gave a humourless smile as he pulled himself to his feet, shaking off Nyssa's offer of support. "Buffet dining laid on."

The Doctor slipped his hands in his pockets, thinking deeply. "You know, certain animals go into a feeding frenzy before mating or spawning."

"You think he's spawning?" Tegan asked incredulously, and despite the ridiculousness of the suggestion she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Mmmm? No, Tegan, but I do think he has something very special planned. Something he has been building up to since he first crashed here."

By now, they had reached the bottom of the stairs. The hall was filled with shadows, the elegant furniture looking strangely foreboding now that they knew whose house it was.

Nyssa suddenly gave a cry of disgust and all three whirled round, their eyes darting nervously round the empty hall.

"What is it?" Tegan asked, her voice shaking.

"Nothing," the Traken gasped. "I just … I stepped in something." The carpet at her feet was sodden with blood. To take their minds off the disgusting sight, she asked hurriedly, "Doctor, do you know where Tanas' lair is?"

"I do!" Tegan interjected before the Doctor could reply. "Follow me." Ignoring the Doctor's miffed, "I knew that,' she led the way to the massive carved door.

His petulance forgotten, the Time Lord gave a cheep of appreciation as he ran his fingers over the animals. "This must be centuries old," he murmured. Tegan made to push in front, eager to demonstrate her knowledge, but he held her back. "This isn't a guided tour, Tegan; this is a vampire's lair. Everyone keep your eyes peeled."

"What a disgusting expression," Nyssa observed to Adric as they slipped down the passageway. She held her stake in readiness as did Tegan and the Doctor. Only Adric went empty-handed since the wood scalded him. When they reached the final door, which in terms of design was identical to the first, the Doctor paused, running expert hands over it. The thick layer of dust on the handle, however, suggested that this door had not been opened in decades.

"This can't be it," Tegan said in disappointment but Adric was nodding.

"It is. I … can sense it. He doesn't have to use the door, remember?"

Chivvying his friends a safe distance away (safe – against a vampire? thought Tegan), the Doctor worked open the bolts and pressed his shoulder against the heavy door until it gave - with a straight-out-of-a-horror-film creak.

Stairs, lots and lots of crumbly stone stairs. They were covered with dust so thick it lay like a shroud over them, and there was a nasty, sharp smell: that of rotting, decaying flesh. With barely a pause, the Doctor led the way, his feet sending up great clouds of dust. As she followed reluctantly, her eyes darting everywhere, Tegan felt like she was climbing down into the very pit of hell.

The steps ended abruptly in a stone Gothic archway without a door. Although it was pitch dark, the change in air pressure told the huddled companions they were about to emerge into a much larger chamber. Holding his finger to his lips to indicate he expected total silence (although no-one was about to burst into song, Tegan thought in irritation), the Doctor fished out his pen torch and walked forward, the other three a step or so behind. A fine mist roiled, sucking the heat from them and coiling around their feet as if somehow it was tasting them.

Crude iron torches hung in sconces from the wall so the four paused to equip themselves before moving off as silently as death. They passed through a huge triple archway and Nyssa gasped as their torches illuminated Tanas' lair.

It was a massively cavernous space so vast that the Traken could not tell how far it stretched. Resembling a Gothic church, rows of arches marched down each side while high above them, half shrouded in shadow, the vaulted and carved ceiling could just be glimpsed. The white stone used for construction bleached out all colour, only highlighting the skeletal nature of the flying buttresses and ribbed columns. Gargoyles crouched in shadowy alcoves, regarding the visitors with a baleful eye.

But the bleak, merciless architecture was not what had caused Nyssa to gasp: the cavernous space was filled with hundreds of stone sarcophagi. Some were guarded by statues of rabid beasts; others were fenced off behind elaborate iron and gold railings, while still others were mounted on carved bases beneath ornate stone canopies. Ranged between the sarcophagi were statues, all fashioned from the same bleached stone. Among baying wolves and leaping panthers, there were grotesque creatures that looked like they had slithered out of the very gates of hell: pouncing cat bodies with leathery wings and forked tails.

"Doctor," Adric said uneasily, his voice seeming to be swallowed up by the darkness, "I can hear something. A slow deep pounding. Like heartbeats."

Tegan spun round, a dawning horror in his eyes. "Heartbeats - plural?"

In answer Adric crept over to the nearest stone coffin; after a moment the Doctor and the others joined him and heaved the lid sideways until they could peer inside. Inside the stone casing was another capsule, fashioned not of stone but sleek metal and plastic: a cryogenics chamber. Through the transparent face plate, the companions could clearly see the tube's occupant: a Great Vampire lying on a bed of velvet, its grim cruel features pinched and almost skeletal. Where Tanas looked virile and blossoming with good health, this abomination looked starved.

"Did you know," the Doctor offered matter-of-factly, "that the word _sarkophagos_ literally means "eater of flesh". Rather appropriate for the resting place of a vampire. These demons must have survived the Great Vampire Wars."

"You mean they hijacked the other TARDIS with Tanas?"

"Possibly," the Doctor replied. "I never quite bought that story of Tanas just hopping on board a TARDIS. I think the TARDIS in question was not their liberation but their prison. I imagine the Time Lord was taking them back to Gallifrey for execution, keeping them cryogenically frozen for safety; something went wrong and Tanas escaped."

"If that is the case, where is this other TARDIS?" Nyssa asked.

The Doctor gave a grim smile. "All around us. It appears the chameleon circuit of this other TARDIS is working perfectly."

"All this?" Tegan asked in amazement.

"Apparently. After decades of slavery, the Time Lord managed to crash land his TARDIS here, destroying the time core and thus burying Tanas and his chums on this backwater world."

Adric was staring down at the monster in the cryo-tube, repulsed and fascinated both at the same time. "Not buried, hibernating. You were right, Tegan," he murmured, his eyes almost mesmerised. "Tanas is spawning. All these centuries he's kept them in suspended animation until he could give them re-birth."

"Re-birth?" the Doctor asked sharply. Adric blinked, snapping abruptly out of the trance.

"I … don't know. All I know is the time is approaching. Whatever he is planning, it will happen tonight."

Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, the travellers crept through the crypt, eyes everywhere, even the beats of their hearts sounding loud in the profound, grim silence. As they moved further inside, the sense of evil increased until it bore down on them like a crushing pressure. Tegan nervously scanned the vaulted ceiling as much as the mist-shrouded floor, one hand toying with the crucifix round her neck, the other holding her stake in readiness. When Nyssa gave her a questioning look, she whispered tersely. "Haven't you ever seen _Alien_? The thing always swings down from above. Besides," she added, "vampires can fly, right?"

"What was that?" Adric hissed. The others strained their ears but it was a few more anxious minutes before even the Doctor picked it up: a rhythmic squeaking which to Tegan's fraught brain sounded like a body swinging on the gallows. Adric was already moving, gliding effortlessly through another set of stone arches towards the source of the noise. As she joined him, Tegan had to fight the compulsion to retch; she had been right.

Suspended from his bound arms hung the naked body of Abraham, the butler. His head lolled back so they could all see the twin puncture marks in his neck.

"Weakling," Adric whispered, his usually cheerful features contorting into a sneer. "Humans are such feeble creatures. No better than animals."

And then he came to himself abruptly as if someone had splashed cold water in his face; he turned away from his friends' silent condemnation.

"Help me get him down," the Doctor ordered brusquely. Tegan was just about to climb onto a nearby sarcophagus to cut the rope when Abraham moaned and his eyes fluttered. Madness dwelt within.

"He promised…" the butler murmured, his voice no more than a papery crackle.

"Hang on – I mean hold on - we'll have you down in a jiffy," Tegan began but Abraham's eyes were already shuttering closed. The Doctor bent closer.

"Who promised?"

"He promised me immortality if I served him." His eyes snapped open, bulging from their sockets. "The horrors I have committed in his name! Oh, God forgive me!" His body arched and then stiffened.

For a moment no-one moved; then, with a sigh, the Doctor lowered the man's body to the ground. "God have mercy on your soul," he said simply.

Hesitantly, as if fearful of his friends' reaction, Adric knelt by the butler and gently closed his eyes which seemed to stare up at him with accusation.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and he wasn't sure if he was apologising for what Tanas had done or what he himself had wanted to do. He stood up, feeling Tegan's gaze on him but unable to meet it.

The Doctor cleared his throat, his face set with grim determination. "Speaking of our genial host, I think it's about time we killed him."

In fact, they did not need to hunt for Tanas' tomb – the evil converged there like lay lines. Approached by a flight of seven steps, the Great Vampire's final resting place formed its own pseudo-chapel behind a set of iron railings. At the back of the chamber towered the gigantic sarcophagus itself while banks of high-tech equipment stood along the side. In one of the shadowy alcoves formed by the ever-present archways there was, incongruously, a massive double bed, complete with sumptuous furs and satin sheets.

It was, however, the menacing statue in the centre of the room that drew Adric like a moth to the flame. Fashioned from black obsidian, the figure was over eight feet tall and broodingly handsome, its arms bent at the elbows, each talon-like hand grasping an iron manacle. When he raised his torch to examine the face, he shuddered in sudden recognition. The skull was that of a bat with large pointed ears, but the features were disturbingly human: the glittering eyes fashioned from rubies seemed to bore into Adric's soul while the mouth was open in a savage snarl, revealing the sharp incisor teeth.

"Tanas?" Tegan asked, appearing at his shoulder and making him jump guiltily.

"His sire. The Greatest of Them All." His fingers itched to stroke the sculpted contours of the cape, test the bunched muscles of the arms, but, sensing Tegan's watchfulness, he wrenched his eyes away and looked instead at the pattern on the floor at the great statue's feet. A five sided star was etched deeply into the ground, the triangular points angling down to a central hole like petals unfurling.

"A pentagram," Tegan informed him significantly, not liking his pre-occupation. "Used in demon worship." Their gazes clashed.

"Later," the Doctor snapped. His attention was fixed on the bleak tomb which loomed over the room like a sinister guardian angel. Taller than a man, the box-like base was carved exquisitely with all manner of foul creatures: gargoyles, baying wolves, hares and demonic ghouls. A pair of gargoyles jutted out from the masonry, iron manacles hanging from their screaming mouths. Grim-faced, the Doctor climbed the steps that led up the base's side to the sarcophagus itself, his companions following reluctantly. The lid was a stone effigy of Tanas, dressed in flowing robes, his canine teeth clearly visible.

Breaking the spell, the Doctor raised his stake. "We don't have much time. Sunrise has passed. Help me lift the lid."

Having to stand on tip toes, the companions began to shove uncertainly at the vast stone cover. It grated, the sound reverberating round the silent room like bones scraping together. Holding his torch high, the Doctor cautiously peeked inside. Instead of a cryotube, the stone sarcophagus contained a simple wooden coffin, its polished lid still intact.

"Doctor," Adric began but the Time Lord waved him to silence.

"His coffin," he panted breathlessly. "We can still make it."

He bent forward, eagerly digging his crowbar under the lid until it fell to the side. Tanas lay there. Arms crossed over his chest, fresh blood seeping from his mouth, he looked the very manifestation of virile manhood with his strong muscular body and mane of dark hair rippling to his shoulders.

For a moment no-one could move, transfixed by his beauty, and then the Doctor shook himself. He raised his stake …

"No!" Adric suddenly screamed, slamming his body against the Doctor's so that the stake bounced harmlessly off the vampire's shoulder. Before the Doctor could process what had happened, Tanas' eyes flashed open.

With an unholy screech that had Nyssa cramming her hands over his ears, the Great Vampire rose majestically from his coffin.

"Run!" the Doctor yelled.


End file.
